Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes
by Lucy-Liza
Summary: Continuing where HPB left off. The war is heating up, Harry returns to Hogwarts, Draco's shady loyalties are finally confirmed, Ron gets kidnapped and so much more! A fresh new story, co written by myself and my good friend Vi. Slash warning.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe save for the odd reference to a potion or spell that has not been detailed in canon and the odd Original Character that pops up later on in the fic.

AuthorsNotes: It's very important to point out that this is a co-written effort! My friend Vi and I split up the characters to make the writing more enjoyable... Characters played by Vi are: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Demora Chambers (OC), and any other minors I have forgotten. And I play: Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Mrs Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Rowan Chambers (OC) and a few more I am sure I have missed.

* * *

- Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes -

* * *

Change was part of life and the wizarding world was well-acquainted with the concept. In a matter of months they had been through so much change that most would agree that they had begun to expect the unexpected, and nothing was considered 'impossible' anymore.

The death of Albus Dumbledore hit everyone hard, and the people descended into a panicked chaos during the first few weeks of summer. Even the Ministry, which had often criticized the old man's views, seemed lost without his guidance. Voldemort had taken full advantage of this, relishing the taste of victory and launching the first of a deadly wave of attacks which left the wizarding world in devastation, grief and pain.

But his victory was short-lived. Perhaps it was miracle or perhaps, as some speculated, it was all part of some brilliant plan, but whatever the reason, no one would forget the day Albus Dumbledore walked into the middle of the Hall of Ministers during a strategy meeting and announced his presence to the world. The public rejoiced, but were kept in the dark about what was said during that meeting. Only a few trusted associates knew what Dumbledore had told the Ministers, and less than a day later, the charges against Severus Snape had been dropped.

The Daily Prophet was filled with speculation, but Dumbledore's presence overrode most suspicion, and only a few eyebrows were raised when Dumbledore disappeared and left to 'go on holiday'. This sudden departure, however, left a problem.

Who was to be Headmaster of Hogwarts until his return?

The answer stunned everyone, but no one more than the man who sat in the Headmaster's office, scowling down at a stack of papers, silently cursing providence and wishing that the Dark Lord had actually killed him. It would have been far kinder a fate.

Severus Snape tapped a quill on the antique oak desk, having never felt more inadequate in his life but refusing to admit it. He frowned down at the paperwork which seemed to be never-ending! When he had agreed to take this position (or rather, had been talked into taking it by Dumbledore), he had not understood the vast amount of work involved in running a school.

He had thought all it would involve was giving a start of the year speech (something which secretly struck terror into his shy, Slytherin heart), disciplining students and occasionally advising the staff.

Oh, how wrong he had been! Schedules, meetings, crisis! The elves in the kitchen were sick and apparently their illness was deadly to humans, so they had been quarantined and he had to coordinate the staff to help pick up slack and make the meals themselves! They needed new staff, some of the library books had been damaged in a fire and needed to be replaced, and he had to approve each and every lesson plan! Not only that but he had to consult with the Board of Governors! How he DETESTED those bureaucratic, stuck up, postulating bores! And he had a feeling they weren't too fond of him either.

School started tomorrow. The very idea of it sent a shiver of dread down his spine. He had been trying to write his speech, something which was as daunting a task to him as a one-legged man attempting to win an arse-kicking contest! He hadn't even gotten to his lesson plans and he'd not be able to touch the paperwork because of the multiple crises which he had had to handle.

Frustrated with himself and the blank piece of paper in front of him which had failed to yield inspiration, he stood up and paced, going over to a window and scowling darkly as he looked out across the grounds. He didn't belong in this office. He knew it. He could feel it! This wasn't his place and he had never wanted it to be.

Severus had an ego; he didn't deny it! He was ambitious and truth be told, he resented the fact that he'd never gone to medical school and been a world famous doctor or a research potions master who got to make the really big discoveries! But he'd long ago given up those fanciful dreams for something more practical, and while a part of him still longed for something great and ambitious, he knew this wasn't it. Oh no! Give him a drafty, cold dungeon and a few snivelling students any day.

He missed Dumbledore. He winced at the thought, hating himself for his own weakness. Affection wasn't something he allowed himself much of. He knew how dangerous was; how it could be used against you. If he cared for someone, he made sure to give the impression he didn't. It was safer for all concerned that way! But he did miss that old man who had risked so much just to clear his name!

And who had left him in charge of the school...

The paperwork was driving him mad! And having to curb his tongue was proving to be damn near impossible. And he had a sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.

A sharp little knock announced the arrival of Professor McGonagall. Her lips were pursed and there was an air about her that suggested she would have rather been thrown to starving dragons than have to report to Snape.

"The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor has not arrived," she announced in a clipped tone.

"What?!"

"You heard," Professor McGonagall answered. "There is no option but for one of the teaching staff to handle two subjects. I have asked Professor Sprout, but she claims lacking knowledge... You, Professor, have enough on your plate with Potions and the duties of Headmaster, so I was about to suggest myself for the time-being, until a suitable replacement may be acquired."

Severus paused, easily feeling the weight of her displeasure at the new configuration of staff, but he had as much right to be unhappy as she did. Starving dragons would also have been preferable to acting Headmaster...

"I suppose we have little choice," he agreed.

Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed with insult.

"I mean, not that it's a bad choice!" Severus quickly added, and frowned in frustration, running a hand back through his dark hair. He cursed quietly (a few portraits covered their ears with astonished expressions), and slumped back into Dumbledore's chair.

"Is there anything else, Professor?" he inquired after a moment, holding back a humiliated scowl.

"No, Professor Snape..." It might have been his imagination, but Severus thought she sounded more understanding. "Oh, though there is one thing... Professor Flitwick says you plan to go to the Ministry today? Are you sure that's wise?" she asked curtly. "What is your purpose in going?"

Severus' eyes darkened oddly. "My purpose is a student," he said softly. "Draco Malfoy was captured a little over a week ago. He's being held for questioning. As he's seventeen, he can be tried as an adult as a conspirator, but I know for a fact that he is innocent. I am negotiating for his release."

McGonagall's lips went so thin they looked white. She was about to part them to speak, so Severus stood and pulled on his cloak. "-In fact, I'm late," he cut her off, leaving the office before she could splutter her objections, his thoughts troubled and dark.

* * *

The Ministry of Magic had changed since the Dark Lord had returned. Security was tight and Severus, after passing the lovely fountain and the initial security guard, was searched and poked and prodded with spells that only his personal physician had ever been allowed to try before! The prim, tight-lipped old lady in the security uniform kept looking at him as though he were the devil himself. Severus deliberately made things difficult for her.

"Who are you here to see?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"It's my job to ask!"

"It's not my job to tell you," Severus retorted.

They continued in this circular questioning for a long time until the woman finally gave up and let him go on his way. He smiled thinly in amusement, knowing he would get no more while here, and headed for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

People were rushing back and forth, shouting to each other across cubicles. Owls flew in through the windows at incredible speed, almost hitting Severus several times as the Department was flooded by urgent messages for help. The aurors were obviously busier than ever! But Severus had expected nothing less and so he passed all the chaos and headed for the back offices, opening a wooden door labelled "Prisoner Relations" and found himself descending a familiar steep stairway that led into a restricted and hidden section of the Ministry.

Most prisoners were sent to Azkaban eventually, but those that were arrested and awaiting trial were kept in a dungeon-like facility located under the Ministry. Severus knew he wouldn't gain access to the dungeons directly, but he did have access to the detective handling Draco's case and he knew he would find him down here. There were several corridors that led into private officers and Severus didn't even knock as he entered the man's small office and closed the door behind him.

"Well?" he demanded tensely.

The detective glanced up, an older man with thinning grey hair and almost bored brown eyes that sharpened and tensed at the man's presence. Magnus Howard didn't trust Severus Snape. He'd been the one to capture and arrest the man and he'd been floored to discover his innocence in the murder of Albus Dumbledore. That catch could have made his career! But just because the man was innocent of that crime didn't mean he was innocent of others.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to knock, Mr. Snape?" the man snapped.

"I'm not interested in observing your meaningless pleasantries, Howard. I want to know about the boy. You spoke to the judge?" Severus inquired.

Howard smiled thinly, leaning back in his chair and lighting a cigar, taking a full, deep breath.

Severus could have told him precisely what was happening to his lungs. He could have warned him that smoking those horrid things would shorten his life span by at least fifty years! He'd die young like some muggle. He'd be lucky if he made it to a hundred and thirty! But Severus didn't tell him that.

Yes, go ahead and fill your lungs with that dark, sickening crap, you vile tub of lard.

"I spoke to one of the judges," Howard assured and looked at Severus calmly, unaware of the man's thoughts, his chair creaking under his bulbous weight as he leaned back in it.

Severus gritted his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides impatiently. "And?" he asked softly through his teeth.

Howard shrugged slightly. "And Draco Malfoy is facing many serious charges, Mr. Snape. Conspiring with the enemy, suspected of being a Death Eater, attempted murder..." he added pointedly. "Not to mention the fact that his father is still at large and we believe Mr. Malfoy might know where he is and could potentially be conspiring to harbour and protect a fugitive from the law. Serious charges. And while you may call him a 'boy', in the eyes of the law, he is a man."

"Ridiculous!" Severus exploded. "That boy knows nothing of Lucius Malfoy's whereabouts! Do you think that Lucius Malfoy is so stupid as to stay in the same place for any length of time?! And he is not a Death Eater! He failed in his task; the initiation was not complete! He refused to murder, you ignorant sop! Surely you can see he's still just a child?!"

"So you say," Howard said tensely and tapped off some ash into a tray and leaned forward. "But that 'child' is the son of one of the most influential and dangerous Death Eaters alive."

Severus looked at him scornfully. "Funny how your tune changes. Lucius used to have you and everyone else in his pocket! And now suddenly you decide to become dedicated to justice since he can no longer pay you and anyone else in this place to look the other way. You make me sick." he said in disgust and braced his arms on the desk. "I'm taking this to Galen," he threatened softly. "And when that boy is released to me, I better not find so much as a scratch on him or I will use any means at my disposal to make sure you are very sorry for it."

Howard stood up and braced himself on his desk as well, almost nose to nose and glaring at the vile man in front of him, enraged at his accusations (truthful as they may be) of bribery and wanting nothing more than to toss him in a cell with the other trash.

"Is that a THREAT, Snape?!" he demanded.

"No, Howard... it's a promise," Severus said softly, dark eyes glittering almost dangerously. "You may have forgotten that Lucius is not the only influential person. I know people who know people who could make your life a living hell. How would you like to be restricted to a chair for the rest of your life, your face so horribly deformed that women and children scream at the very sight of you, and live out your days as an object of pity as you're fed through a tube in your nose?!"

"I'll have you arrested for threatening an officer!!" the man snapped.

Severus pulled back and smiled thinly. "Your word against mine, Detective," he said softly. "And you've already proven to be mistaken once. Whom do you think they'll believe this time?" he asked wryly and turned to leave. "Not a scratch," he warned again.

The detective looked flushed, but despite himself, he nodded. He'd die before admitting to being afraid of that threat, but something in the man's eyes told him he was serious, and the vivid description had him more than a little unnerved.

Severus left the prison area, wishing they would just let him see Draco... just once! But it would take a lot more influence and bribery than he had at the moment to allow that. Visitors generally weren't allowed unless you were a 'somebody', so Severus made his way back to the main floor of the Department and headed for the officers of the judges.

Galen Maddox was one of the top Wizzengammot judges and in Severus' experience, he'd found the man to be quiet, logical and fair. It was the last attribute which Severus was hoping to appeal to, and having faced him during his own brief imprisonment here and having earned a little respect after Dumbledore had explained the situation, he felt he could go to him in this matter.

Severus did knock carefully this time and waited for the invitation before entering the man's office and cleared his throat. "Galen?" he asked, having come to address him by first name at the man's insistence.

Galen glanced up and smiled slightly. "Ahh... Severus Snape! How are things going at Hogwarts? I must say this is a bit of a surprise! I had thought, after your unpleasant stay here, you wouldn't be so eager to come back," he said pleasantly.

Severus shook his head. "Believe me, I'm not here for a social visit. I'm here to discuss with you a matter of some urgency actually."

"Mmm... yes. Draco Malfoy, isn't it?" Galen asked, indicating for the man to take a seat. "I hope you realize how... delicate... that situation is," he said tactfully.

Severus frowned darkly. "He's just a child, Galen. He's been manipulated and caught up in something he has had no control over."

"We all make our choices, Severus," Galen said softly. "He's seventeen now. He has the rights and privileges of an adult. That makes him accountable for his actions, and when he was captured, he was with a band of Death Eaters who were en route to a suspected raid."

Severus' frown deepened. "Galen, do you have any idea what it's like on that side?"

"No," Galen said softly. "But I have a feeling you're about to tell me."

"Damn right I am! If you refuse to cooperate, you die! End of story! If you make so much as a single mistake, a wrong move, a bad decision, you're killed and questions are asked later. You may have found him en route to a raid, but I can promise you he would not have been an active and willing participant! I know this boy! I've known him since infancy!" Severus exclaimed.

"And I realize you care for him and want him safe. But surely you can see the Ministry's point? If Draco Malfoy knows anything about the whereabouts of his father, we have to know! And even if he doesn't, what would you have us do? Release him? Give him the full rights and privileges of our society? A society he has actively helped to destroy by going along with You-Know-Who's plans?" Galen asked reasonably.

"-There's no guarantee he'll not immediately return to the Death Eaters once he's released! And more than that, there are the practicalities. To whom should we release him? The boy has a sixth year education, but no job... no home! In the eyes of the law he's a man, but you and I both know he's not viable yet."

"I already told you I would take responsibility for him," Severus said softly.

"But he's not obligated to stay with you," Galen pointed out.

"So make him obligated, damn it!" Severus barked, pounding his fist on the desk in frustration and standing up to look at the man intently. "Restrict him to the castle! Revoke his adult rights! Do whatever you have to do! Just drop the bloody charges and let him go!" he said.

Galen looked consideringly at the man for a long moment, seeming to be in deep thought, before nodding slightly. "Alright," he said softly.

Severus blinked in surprise, honestly having not expected him to do it. "Alright? You mean... you'll let him go?"

"Yes, Severus... I'll have him released tomorrow afternoon," he said softly and shook his head. "This will not be an easy matter but I think I can convince the other judges to release him into your care. But there are conditions."

"Name them," Severus demanded.

Galen looked at him seriously. "He is under a kind of 'house arrest'. He will be restricted to the Hogwarts grounds unless he is accompanied by you or another guardian whom you have in writing authorized to watch him. And more than that, I am going to do as you suggested. His adult privileges are being suspended; he will not be licensed to apparate until he turns twenty. He may seek employment and pursue his education, but he may not live independently on his own until the age of twenty. You have three years, Severus. Three years to undo whatever damage you need to. He's in your custody and if he violates any of these conditions, he will be tried and sent to Azkaban, and as his legal guardian, you too could be held liable. Do we understand each other?"

Severus nodded seriously. "Yes, Galen. Perfectly."

Galen nodded. "Be here tomorrow at three to pick the boy up," he said softly. "And Severus?"

Severus turned at the doorway, having been on his way out. "Yes?"

Galen smiled slightly. "You might want to work on that temper of yours. Good parents don't generally break tables by pounding on them."

Severus actually flushed and nodded curtly, leaving the office in much better spirits, but knowing that the real trouble had only just begun.

* * *

It was... dank. It wasn't damp exactly... and it wasn't completely dark... It wasn't dusty, nor was it slimy... But it was far from inviting.

Then again, he supposed cells weren't supposed to be luxury establishments. Even so... one could have at least hoped for some form of rudimentary light beyond the faint glow from the torches in the hall beyond the door...

Door seemed like an understatement. This 'door' was not very tall but oddly wide, and made with such thick, aged wood it would have probably been soundproof if not for the small gap near the top, punctuated by narrow metal bars.

Draco thought it was a cliché. It was so would-be 'dungeon'. He'd seen better... much better, unfortunately...

The tall, extremely slender blond was positioned on the grotty excuse for a cot to the left of the cell, sitting as straight as if someone had shoved a pole up his back. He never slouched, it was engrained. His shoulders, thin and delicate, with jutting bones and deep dips of white skin and tendon, looked almost too weak to support his head - which rested on a thin, swan-like neck.

A tray containing some rudimentary slop that was, he suspected, supposed to resemble food, had been left untouched just inside the door. The goblet of water he had taken advantage of, however, and lay empty on its side... He'd die of starvation before eating that glop though. He had standards... they were just severely strained at the moment.

Draco Malfoy had now been in Auror custody for a total of nine days. Nine long, boring days. The highlight of each was the interrogation at around midday... Due to his extreme stubborn will to yield nothing, they had brought in some sort of psychiatrist... one of the people who claimed they could read between the lines... and get to 'understand him'... Draco had folded the intelligence tests into origami...

Then threw the duck at the man placidly...

That had been day seven.

Draco folded his arms about his chest tautly. He rubbed an elbow absently for warmth, something that was distinctly lacking in this place. He should file a complaint... but he'd already filed somewhere in the region of three hundred, and the guards had stopped humouring him now... To earn the truth, he just needed to distract himself...

He was used to unfortunate situations... more used to them than he ought to have been... but this was not the same. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't... This side of the coin was a side he, frankly, knew nothing about. They sang carols at Christmas, cooed at puppies, found some abstract meaning in life... All things he was rather disconnected to. Carols held no purpose, puppies were not 'awww, adorable!'... and he certainly hadn't found any real meaning in life so far...

In fact, for the seventeen years in which he had been unpleasantly alive, he'd found very little to promote the state of being whatsoever...

That said, Draco would have rather eaten that slop on the floor than let anyone have the satisfaction of his death...

So cold... so damn cold...

The blond closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the stone wall slightly, managing not to shiver with sheer will power alone. He wanted a decent blanket... a change of clothes... He had only changed clothes once since arriving, after the briefest of brief cold showers. He might as well have just rubbed ice all over his body...

Now, while still passable, Draco didn't think he could have attended any social functions; the grey short-sleeved t-shirt was loose (and a tad grimy from leaning against the wall) and the tight dark-blue jeans (jeans! He was reduced to wearing JEANS) were starting to look a bit scuffed too... Ugh, this was barbaric... jeans of all things...

Draco rubbed his arms slowly again, fingers practically numb... He opened his eyes again, the pupils completely dilated with the attempt to see more than shadows in the darkness, and stared across the expanse of dim cell... He moved only to breathe, conserving his energy as he did not sleep in this place, and only moved his gaze, at length, when he heard footsteps and saw the growing glow of torchlight.

* * *

Harry Potter had gone mad.

His parents' death hadn't managed it. Living around his aunt and uncle and his fat, tormenting cousin hadn't done it. Facing evil wizards, giant snakes, giant spiders, trolls, personal tragedy, death and worst of all... puberty... hadn't done it either!

And yet here he was, following some fat guard down a cold, dark corridor towards a cell in this horrid place, and Harry had completely lost his mind. It was the only explanation for it!

Why else would he feel sorry for Draco Malfoy?

Harry winced as he heard distant cries, shouts and other horrible things echoing in the hall. This place wasn't fit for a rat to live in, then alone a boy of seventeen. He couldn't imagine Malfoy in a place like this! In a posh, upscale tearoom surrounded by ladies in their Sunday best? Yes, he could picture that. In a pristine museum surrounded by ancient and elegant works of art? Yes, he could most certainly picture that too! But in a dark, dank, dirty dungeon?

The idea was almost baffling.

But what was more baffling than that was the trouble he'd gone to in order to speak to Malfoy. Arthur Weasley had had to pull some strings, and even then Harry had had to personally agree to sign autographs for the all the guards' wives and children! For once, his fame worked in his favour and he unashamedly used it in order to get what he wanted, which was an audience with the Ministry's latest prisoner.

From what Harry had gathered, the boy had been captured along with a group of other Death Eaters shortly after Severus Snape had been cleared of all charges (Harry still reeled from the idea), and since then he'd been held for questioning.

But Harry had a few questions of his own that needed answering. Questions which had almost haunted him. Ron thought he was mad. Hermione thought he was coming down with something. Maybe he was! But he knew he wouldn't rest until he got some answers. But he wasn't naive enough to think he'd get them without some kind of payment in return.

So he'd come prepared with what little he was allowed to bring into the cells with him and waited outside patiently for the guard to unlock the door.

"Hey! You!" the fat guard practically grunted as his massive frame blocked Harry's view of the inside of the cell. "You've got a visitor."

"Oh happy day..." came the replying drawl awash with sarcasm, sounding more bored than anything.

Harry couldn't help but smile at that. Cell or no cell, filth or no filth, Draco Malfoy would always sound as though he were a king looking down his nose at the peasantry.

"Perhaps not..." Harry said, making his way around the fat guard with a backpack on his shoulder, all the items inside it having been thoroughly searched and scrutinized.

But any further comments were stricken from his mind as he took in the sight of his old nemesis. The blond was paler than death (or perhaps that was just the lighting? He didn't think so), and thinner than Harry had ever seen him. He was dressed in jeans, something which Harry had never thought to see in his life-time, and somehow his filthy attire made him look... human.

Harry had never thought of him as human before. Not really. To him, Malfoy was always larger than life! A paragon of wealth and arrogance, always strong and prideful but never vulnerable in any way. Morbidly, Harry had admired his confidence and had envied him for it at times. He felt disillusioned suddenly to see Malfoy sitting there in that cell, as human as he was.

The king had been dethroned, and Harry found he took no satisfaction in it as he had once thought he would.

Draco blinked a number of times, almost squinting, eyes unused to the light of even the rudimentary torch after so long in the darkness... But then he sat back hard against the wall behind him with an 'ugh' of eloquence.

Potter... wonderful... just what he needed...

"So they've decided to attempt torture... I have to hand it to them; they're extremely inventive. Good for them... But I think, unpleasant as this may be, it would take more than your tedious company to loosen my tongue, Potter..." he drawled, voice fluid and composed as ever, despite his circumstances.

He was not unaware, however, of the Gryffindor's shock... It was painfully clear on his stupid, open features... Draco idly wondered if that unique openness was a rarity or if it was commonplace amongst people with more standard upbringings than his own... but he dismissed the query quickly, and shifted at the staring, folding his arms over his chest as if to hide himself.

"What the hell are you staring at?!" he snapped, frowning.

Harry startled at the question, realizing he was staring rudely and shook his head. "Nothing... nothing!" he assured quickly and cleared his throat, looking at the guard. "Do you mind?"

The guard hesitated. "Was told not to leave you alone with him. Could be dangerous!"

Harry looked dry. "I think I'll brave it, thanks," he said sardonically.

The guard hesitated and nodded. "Fine then," he grunted. "Just call when you're ready to leave," he said and handed Harry the torch and left the small cell, closing the door behind him.

Harry bit a lip nervously for a moment, before putting the torch up on a wall-bracket and turning back to the blond, seeing him folding his arms over his chest almost defensively.

Harry felt a twinge of compassion which was both sudden and unexpected.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked softly. "Are they treating you well? Or... as well as can be expected?" he queried, hoping it wasn't the kind of place where they truly did use torture! He didn't think the Ministry was that brutal, but Harry had become a bit more cynical of late and didn't put it past anyone to resort to terrible methods of persuasion.

"As if you care," Draco said with little inflection, still squinting a little, though he managed to make it look like he was just suspicious rather than the truth – that his eyes were sore. "If you had your way I'd probably be bleeding to death again... Nice curse, that, by the way. Don't think I've seen it before..." he drawled, mock-conversationally.

Harry didn't flinch, but his eyes grew darker. "That was an accident, Malfoy," he said softly. "I had no idea what that curse was. Of course I don't want to see you bleeding to death."

"Funny sort of accident..." Draco murmured, but said nothing more on the topic, not particularly fond of the memory. He started to get used to the light level in the room, but his pupils were still very wide, dragging in all the light they could while they had the chance.

He moved a hand up to rest at the base of his neck on his upper-chest where the t-shirt collar was too loose to keep it warm. He looked almost weary. "What do you want, Potter? I'm very busy being imprisoned at the moment..." he said flatly.

Harry's eyes fell to the base of his neck, the skin whiter than snow and Harry wondered if it was as cold as snowflakes too. He shook his head, dismissing the idea from his mind and folded his arms, leaning back up against the cold wall.

"I wanted to see you," he said softly. "And... to talk to you about a few things," he confessed. "I was worried about you," he added at the end, and felt foolish for admitting it. It wouldn't matter to Draco! He'd no doubt laugh at the thought. Harry Potter worried about Draco Malfoy! Ha! Yes, it was very funny. It was no wonder Ron thought him mad...

Draco stared silently at Harry for a couple of drawn-out seconds, then managed a ghost of a smirk... a faint echo of his former self... "Worried about me," he repeated.

He didn't say any of the things that teetered on the tip of his tongue, for which he was very proud of himself... and his restraint. Instead, he quirked an almost-amused pale eyebrow and said, "You have my undivided, incredulous attention, Potter. I suggest you address what you mean to discuss."

Well... at least he didn't laugh, Harry consoled himself. He shifted slightly, trying to figure out how to put this. "Right... well..." he paused and cleared his throat, straightening slightly. "Best out with it then, I suppose. Umm... well, it's like this! You see I--" he cut off.

How did he explain? How could he possibly give voice to the obsessive thoughts which had taken him over last year and had resulted in him practically stalking the blond in order to prove he was guilty? How did Harry confess his guilt? How he'd been eaten up with it soon after that incident in the bathroom and even more so after Draco had fled, leaving Harry confused and feeling as though the world itself had turned on end?

Harry nodded slightly. "I - that is to say... I had a couple of questions for you. But first I - I feel I owe you an apology!" he said quickly in a rush, ignoring his stinging pride which screamed at him to stop and the little Ron voice in his head which was always with him, asking "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!"

Draco blinked his eyes once... then raised a hand (which shook barely perceptively) to brush some platinum blond hair behind an ear. "An apology?" he drawled, slowly animating himself to uncross his legs and stand up.

He was thinner in appearance once actually standing, shirt hanging loosely, all limbs diminished to bone and muscle. But his thin, stark-pale features were poised with elegance and, at present, a notable smirk. "You... owe me... an apology?"

This was some kind of joke... possibly something Weasley had set him up for... And yet the look on his face suggested there was no 'plan' here.

Severus had taught him the intricacies of the mind from a young age... Where he had failed teaching Potter, Draco had long since made progress, almost to the point where he surpassed Snape, though not quite... Draco detected nothing of conceit... Only shock, and ambivalence... confusion... It was inconclusive, but did prove this wasn't some planned deceit...

Draco looked amused as he circled the brunette once, as if he were the odder sight of the two of them in the room. He kept a wary distance of a few feet, but it was still probably the closest they'd ever been to each other without violent intent...

"Are you ill, Potter?" he inquired, completely earnestly. "Or maybe you've caught some exotic disease... and you're going to slowly die in agony and want to clear your conscience first... Am I right? Please say 'yes'," he drawled wryly.

Harry couldn't help a small smile at Draco's censure, folding his arms, feeling scrutinized and oddly vulnerable as the blond circled him, almost like he was being dissected or stripped naked by his eyes alone.

"That's what Hermione suggested," Harry admitted softly, tensing and trying not to shift, feeling the blond's closeness and getting Goosebumps for it. He dismissed it as the cold.

"But no... I'm perfectly healthy, thank you," he assured and frowned slightly. "And yes, an apology. Don't rub it in, Malfoy! This is hard enough for me as it is without you gloating and preening!" he snapped.

Draco stopped circling, standing still in front of him, and lifted his bone-thin shoulders in a gentle, eloquent shrug. "You can't expect me to do without them... This is a fundamental gloating moment... I don't think I'll have any qualms about using precious energy to preen over this sudden insanity of yours..."

Harry hummed slightly and sighed defeatedly. "Well... I guess in this place, you could use all the enjoyment you can get so... in the interests of fairness I'll ignore your gloating," he said softly and looked at the blond intently, not failing to notice how thin he was, which just made him look all the more vulnerable.

"Despite what you or anyone else may think, I don't consider myself the smartest person on this planet. In fact..." he trailed, biting a lip hard for a moment in thought. "In fact, there are times when I can be downright thick," he admitted softly and sighed heavily.

"I may be slow to figure things out at times, Malfoy... but when I do... and my ignorance has caused someone else pain... I'm quick to atone for it. And I believe I may have... misjudged you and - and unfairly caused you additional suffering. So... for that you have my deepest regrets and apology," he said seriously.

Draco looked tense. He hadn't enjoyed that very much at all... It was too - honest. He hadn't expected him to mean it...

"I see," he said shortly, at length, somewhat at a loss. He thought quickly, trying to think of anything to use as a retort but - there was nothing to retort to... "Fine," he added, almost snappily. Ugh! No... not fine... any other word but fine!

Harry blinked in surprise. "Fine?" he asked softly, as surprised as Draco was. "I mean... well, no! It's - it's not fine. I realize a simple apology isn't enough. In fact, no doubt to you it's downright insulting and so - I suppose I should apologize for insulting you with an apology! But... I really mean it," he said seriously, seeing he'd made the blond uncomfortable, but Harry had no choice in the matter. His guilt ran too deep.

Draco rolled his eyes slightly, and took a step back. "I said fine, Potter! Will you stop talking now? Is that it? Are you done?" he said, uneasy now and tense. Typical... he couldn't even get enjoyment out of Potter being ridiculous anymore...

"No..." Harry said softly. "I mean, yes! As far as the apology is concerned, I am. I still have a couple of questions to ask you."

"Then ask away..." Draco drawled, waving a hand imperiously.

Harry bit a lip almost hesitantly, before nodding. "Alright," he said softly and took in and let out a deep breath, bracing himself and looked at the blond seriously.

"Why didn't you kill Dumbledore?" she asked softly.

Draco scoffed quietly, though his frame tensed a little further as he paced slowly. "Why, indeed... I didn't have enough time? Snape did it first...?" he reeled, and shrugged, before looking over his shoulder at the brunette with a thin, sardonic smile. "Or perhaps... I'm not cut out to be a killer... Oh, please, come and redeem me, oh-gracious Potter?" he said with ample mocking sarcasm. "Sorry to disappoint you, Potter. I had every intention of committing murder. Circumstances just wouldn't allow it."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You're lying," he said softly and frowned, folding his arms and looking at the blond shrewdly. "And you did it so well too!" he complimented. "If I didn't already know the truth you might have convinced me. Do you do that all the time?"

Draco turned to face him, looking stoic and wary. "Do what?"

"Lie through your perfect white teeth."

"Do you always do that?"

"Do what?" Harry asked blankly.

"Stick your nose in where it doesn't belong..." Draco retorted. "Frankly, Potter, I don't see what bearing any of this has on you... And I don't have to answer your questions, there's certainly nothing in it for me besides the pain of your company..."

Harry smiled slightly. "Au contraire..." he drawled, taking out his backpack and opening it, pulling out a warm blanket and some packets of edible food. "I figured this wouldn't be as grand as a hotel. So I brought you a few... shall we say... survival essentials?" he asked and held them out to him. "You get the entire contents of this backpack if you answer my questions," he informed.

Actually, Harry felt so bad for him that he'd give it to him even if he refused, but he wasn't about to tell him that... yet.

Draco stood still for a moment, looking at the contents with an odd mixture of disdain and desperation in his eyes... He finally rolled them and paced away again. "Charity..." he scoffed sardonically. "From you, of all people. I'd rather get pneumonia, thank you."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Charity?" he asked and scoffed, as though scornful. "Don't be insulting! This isn't charity! It's good old-fashioned bribery!"

"Well, I do not concede to briber--" Draco snapped for retort, but abruptly wavered and had to throw out an arm to grasp the nearest wall for support. The cell went swirly for a moment with dizziness...

"Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, dropping the backpack and rushing to him, reaching out a hand to grasp his shoulder in worry. "Are you okay?! What's wrong?!"

Draco flinched violently, the touch alarming him ten times more than the dizzy wave ever could. He drew back hastily, almost staggering as the cell was still moving of its own accord... and seemed tenser than ever, not to mention a lot paler.

"Don't touch me!! Nothing is wrong! Go away, Potter..." he demanded breathily.

Harry frowned. "Draco... calm down..." he said softly, his voice gentling abruptly in a soothing way, using the boy's first name without thinking as he tried to calm him, looking worried at his violent reaction to the touch and holding up his hands. "Just relax, okay? I'm not going to hurt you! Why don't you sit down on that cot, okay?" he suggested softly.

Draco didn't have time to reply as dizziness compounded his weakness of body to the point where he silently collapsed in a dead faint on the floor. He lay still on his side, pale as death, a tangle of fragile limbs and loose clothes... not moving but for the noticeable rapid flutter of a neck pulse and to shallowly breathe through his sudden bout of unconsciousness.

Harry's day just got worse.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, the word introduced to him by Ron and one he rarely allowed himself, simply because he feared Hermione's wrath. It was reserved for moments like this, when Harry was caught between the real and the surreal. He didn't allow himself any time to think as he reached for the blond on the floor, silently shocked by his faint, and lifted his surprisingly fragile, light frame onto the cot.

Harry wasn't a doctor by any means. He knew next to nothing about medicine except the basics of first-aid, so he checked to make sure Draco was breathing and placed his hand over the bony chest, which moved almost imperceptivity with every shallow breath. He could feel Draco's heart pounding beneath his hand and since it was obvious he had crumpled in some kind of faint, Harry assumed he was either sick or his body was exhausted and strained in some manner. Either way, this dungeon wasn't going to help his situation!

But Harry didn't have to be a doctor to feel the ice of Draco's skin under his t-shirt. He reached for the warm blanket he'd brought, putting it over him worriedly and found himself hesitating, before reaching over to soothe back silken strands of blond hair away from his face, surprised by the feel of it, having always assumed it was rather stiff and held into place by a million cans of hairspray!

Apparently not.

He let out a shaky sigh, not quite sure what to do for him. He reached into the backpack and took out a strengthening potion. He'd included several in the bag, including a day-dreaming potion in case Draco grew bored with the books he'd bought. But he felt at the very least the strengthening potion should help!

So Harry uncorked it and placed the glass of the bottle to Draco's parted lips, slanting it so the potion fell in his mouth and tilting his head back so it would pour into the back of his throat, making him cough and swallow automatically.

"There now..." Harry soothed softly, wondering what Ron would say if he saw him now, tending to Draco Malfoy after he'd passed out! But the fact that he'd passed out just furthered Harry's growing compassion for the blond... not to mention his confusion.

But he figured that could be resolved later, and continued to make the blond drink the potion carefully in hopes of rousing him and helping him recover.

Draco woke up coughing... not a common occurrence... Coughing was actually a little tame; it felt more like choking, and prompted him to turn onto his side automatically as a result, hacking to clear his airways. Disorientation set in... quickly followed by some vague acknowledgment of pain... rapidly followed by alarm. What the fuck?!

The blond sat up quickly, sensing a presence too close to him for comfort, almost wavered again, and turned wincingly to gaze at Potter, still holding the strengthening potion he had obviously been in the middle of administering. Draco's bony frame tensed to a point where he'd have made drawn sling-shots look lax.

"Careful!" Harry exclaimed, gently but firmly reaching over to place hands on his bony shoulders and push him back down. "Don't move so fast, okay? You passed out and hit your head pretty hard on the floor! I don't want you fainting again. I just gave you a strengthening potion. I'm not sure what's wrong with you; you could be sick! I should probably call for the guard to get someone. I'm sure they have a physician on staff."

Draco's expression turned to shock - and then to annoyance, brows drawing together for a frown and lips pursing as he stared malevolently up at the brunette. "Don't touch me," he repeated himself quietly, raising a pale hand to brush off those on his shoulders. He didn't sit up again immediately, simply because he was still trying to take stock of his situation... and because the ceiling was moving, which it oughtn't be doing... Stupid ceiling...

"I'm fine... I don't need a bloody physician. And unless I wish to demote my IQ a few points, I have no need for that guard either... I didn't faint; I lost concentration -- it happens."

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean you faint often?!" he asked incredulously, handing the blond some fresh bottled water to wash the taste of the potion out of his mouth.

Draco warily took the bottle, then slowly sat up and turned around so his back was to the wall and Harry was to his left -- at a safe distance of a few feet. He looked sour, "I do not faint!" he repeated waspishly.

Harry laughed in amusement. "Well... you certainly did a very good impression of it just now!" he quipped.

"Shut up, Potter!"

Harry grinned when he saw him take a sip of the water and shrugged, leaning back up against the wall as well. "I suppose I should be thankful you fainted. It's put you in a very precarious situation. Now you'll have to answer my questions!"

"I did not FAINT!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "My apologies, oh prideful one; 'lost concentration by falling unconscious'."

Draco rolled his eyes, tilting his head back for another careful sip of water, before he neatly twisted the cap closed on the bottle. "Yes, quite... But my loses of concentration are none of your business... and I still see no reason to answer your questions."

Harry smiled slightly. "Oh no?" he asked and shrugged. "I suppose... if you don't mind accepting charity... you could refuse to answer them."

"What are you talking about?"

Harry smirked. "That's my water you're drinking. And unless I'm mistaken, that's also my blanket you're snuggled up in so comfortably. Now... I could just give them to you I suppose and not ask for anything in return. But then you'd consider that charity. If, however, you were to answer my questions, you could accept them instead as a bribe or... an exchange of goods," he said innocently.

Draco was silent for a moment, tensely regarding the blanket still over his lap, and the bottle in his hand...

If Harry had been a mind-reader, the thoughts he'd have picked up would have made his ears burn...

"Bastard," he muttered stoically, as his pride and distrust fought. Pride won out... though distrust and annoyance were still notably present. "Fine... I'll answer your fucking questions."

"Truthfully," Harry added.

"You didn't specify truthfully..." Draco drawled insolently.

"I am now," Harry said and shrugged, making to get up. "But I suppose I could just leave and let you get some rest!"

"I don't need rest!" Draco argued, glaring for the insinuation of weakness. "Fine! I'll inject some truth... but you are trying my patience, Potter! If you want to know anything at all, I suggest you start asking questions!"

"I already did and you lied," Harry replied. "I want the truth, Malfoy. Why didn't you kill Dumbledore?"

Draco pursed his lips tautly. He stared at the bottle in his hands on his lap... but saw instead the night weeks ago. It seemed like an age had passed between then and now...

The torch on the wall flickered as if a breeze was disturbing it...

Finally, Draco stoically shrugged a shoulder. "I couldn't. Just couldn't..."

Harry bit a lip thoughtfully, watching him carefully, almost shrewdly. He nodded eventually and managed a small smile. "I thought so," he said softly and sighed heavily, resting his head up against the wall and closing his eyes.

This... changed things.

Draco turned his head and regarded the Gryffindor silently while he wasn't looking back. Perceptive grey eyes picked out details many would have simply not seen... There were faint lines of stress at the corners of the green eyes, nearly hidden by the glasses frames...

There was a slight greyness beneath the lids that told of - what? A lack of sleep? No, disturbed sleep. Yes.. nightmares... Draco knew a thing or two about nightmares. That was why he'd given up sleeping, pretty much...

Despite what he saw and what his gut instinct was telling him, however, Draco wasn't one to trust even himself and refused to be swayed. One of the only things that made sense in his life anymore was that Potter was annoying. He hated Potter... Potter bad.

"You don't know me," he drawled quietly, tone devoid of emotion. "Whatever you're thinking... you're wrong about me."

Harry laughed abruptly in amusement. "Probably..." he admitted and opened bright green eyes to regard the blond seriously. "Unlike you, I don't pretend to be more than I am. I'm not going to sit here and say I know you. I don't. Your answer only confirmed that. But..." he trailed, biting a lip.

"It does tell me something about you. Something I've been wondering about for a while now, ever since I saw you on that tower, trying desperately to be something you're not and lowering your wand," he said softly and bit a lip. "You have a conscience," he said softly and frowned slightly. "That changes things."

Draco scoffed quietly and looked distasteful. "Saw me on the tower? You couldn't possibly have-" he cut off, and his grey eyes glimmered with rapid thought for a moment, before he hummed. "I see... yes... No doubt another amazing feat of invisibility... not unlike those you miraculously managed to perform in Hogsmeade."

Harry smirked slightly and shrugged a shoulder. "Possibly..." he said noncommittally. "But that's not the point," he said seriously. "The point is... I no longer have license to hate you. So..." he trailed and took and let out a deep breath, nodding. "I've decided to forgive you."

Draco had been unwisely sipping water again... He spat some of it out and choked on the rest as he scoffed and laughed out his incredulity. He coughed a few times and held a hand to his chest as he regained his breath with noted effort.

Finally under control again, he looked at Harry with mock-sincerity. "Oh, Merlin! You forgive me? Well then, this is the highlight of my captivity! I daresay I can die happy now, Potter... Oh, thank you - thank you for relieving me of my burden! I have so suffered with the guilt over all the pain I've caused you..."

Harry rolled his eyes, smiling slightly in amusement. "Well... I hardly expected you to give a damn," he admitted and looked at him seriously. "But... let's see... you have tormented me every year since we were eleven, and you almost killed my best friend," he said softly and his eyes glittered dangerously for a moment. "Intentional or not, your actions had consequences. But as I almost killed you accidentally in return, I figure that makes us even," he said softly.

"So yes, whether you care or not, I forgive you. I'm not sure what you're about, Malfoy," he said softly, cocking his head and looking at the blond curiously. "You confuse me, to be quite honest. I find I'm having a hard time separating truth from fiction where you're concerned. But either way, I don't hate you now. I hated who I thought you were. But now..." he trailed, biting a lip. "Now I'm not sure if I or anyone knows who you really are."

Draco looked nonplussed, folding his arms over his chest. "Wow... how exceedingly deep of you," he said, with obvious deadpan sarcasm. "Is that all? Can I rot in peace now?"

Harry sighed heavily. "No... I mean, yes! I could ask you the other questions, but... that was the most important one. And frankly, the others are none of my business," he murmured softly.

"What others?" Draco murmured.

Harry shifted slightly, folding his arms and looking uncomfortable. "Well... you know.. just... stuff," he said awkwardly, sorry he'd even brought it up.

Truth was that he'd been doing a lot of thinking since Draco had fled. A lot of thinking and reviewing every second of every encounter and all the information he knew about Draco Malfoy. "Just... just a few... inconsistencies... that sort of confused me is all."

"Oh, I see. Stuff, inconsistencies. Well, that's illuminating."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine!" he exclaimed and turned to look at Draco intently with a frown. "Just who the fuck are you?"

Draco looked bland, and blinked once, before quirking an eyebrow. "You should listen to Granger, Potter... Also, whatever you have might be catching and I like my memory undamaged, so perhaps you ought to go before whatever it is that has made you forget my name spreads."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about your name! I'm talking about the fact that you're a liar... and apparently a damn good one too!" he exclaimed. "How come you always seemed so spoiled, as if you were always getting your way, your father conceding to your every wish, and yet he's supposed to be a Death Eater?! From what I've gathered, they don't care about anyone, least of all their families! And how can you act so spoiled and mean and yet I caught you crying in the bathroom over what you were being forced to do?! I didn't know at the time what you were crying over! And who bullies you?! Moaning Myrtle mentioned you were being bullied! And yet you're the most popular boy in school! No one would dare bully you! So who is it? And why haven't you been broken out of this prison by the Death Eaters yet? Shouldn't your father be concerned about you?!"

Draco moved surprisingly fast for someone who had passed out not half an hour ago... and his punch was strong enough to knock Harry off one side of the cot.

With glaring grey eyes, Draco then pinned him down by his shoulders, pale and tense and almost too angry to think straight... But suppressing emotion was an art form he'd taken very seriously, so he never got too angry... It would be bad if he got too angry...

"I was NOT crying! Malfoys don't faint and Malfoys don't CRY! And Moaning Myrtle wouldn't know her arse from her ghostly elbow so I'd disregard anything she says! I'm not bullied, quite right! No one would dare... And if you had any sense you'd stop right here, Potter! I don't have a wand but a powerful enough wizard doesn't NEED a wand! Do we understand each other?" he hissed waspishly.

Harry held his hurting cheek, staring up at the blond incredulously for a moment as he listened to his prideful, angry tirade.

Eventually, Harry's green eyes sharpened and then softened in amusement and what could have been sympathy. "Yes..." he said softly. "I understand perfectly."

Draco narrowed his eyes, distinctly taken aback by the odd look he was now being given... and drew away rather swiftly, kneeling on the floor next to the brunette awkwardly instead. "Good," he muttered, finally.

Harry sat up and turned to face the blond, looking at him intently, before reaching up to rub at his own sore cheek.

"That's a mean right hook," he said softly. "You must be a good fighter."

"Not especially," Draco drawled stoically. "It depends."

"On what?" Harry asked curiously.

Draco looked sardonic, "Stuff... inconsistencies..." he quipped.

"You don't like to fight," Harry decided softly. "It's too... undignified."

Draco punched Harry again, and rubbed his wrist idly. "Oh... I don't know... it grows on you," he drawled.

"Fuck! Would you STOP that?!" Harry demanded, frowning. "Your knuckles are sharper than tacks! Don't they feed you here?!" he demanded, frowning as he felt blood on his lip and licked at it.

Draco frowned a little at the slight, still rubbing his hand. "If you can call what they offer food," he retorted.

Harry hummed. "Well... any skinnier and we can hang hats on you! There's some food in that backpack you can have," he said softly, rubbing at his sore lip mutinously and stood up. "I should... probably get going," he said softly.

Draco stood up as well, though he seemed oddly careful about doing so. "Yes..." he agreed whole-heartedly.

Harry smiled slightly. "Are they going to let you out of here any time soon?"

"Unlikely."

Harry frowned. "Why the hell not?! You haven't done anything wrong!" he exclaimed almost vehemently.

"Besides being a Death Eater..." Draco retorted, and wandered to the door and gave it a knock. "Guard - I think my visitor's ready to leave," he drawled.

The guard approached the door and opened it, keeping his wand trained on the blond.

Harry hesitated, before looking at Draco seriously. "I'll come back," he said softly. "And... I'll bring more things to bribe you with too," he said with a small smile.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Potter..."

Harry chuckled softly. "I can see we have a lot of work to do," he said softly and headed out the door, watching as the guard locked it behind him and then frowned at the boy in front of him.

"What happened to your face?" the guard asked, seeing the red mark where Draco had punched him. "Did he hit you?!"

"Yup," Harry drawled, pocketing his hands as he walked down the corridor with the guard.

"I shouldn't have left you alone with him! I thought you were just gonna ask some questions. You should have called and told me to come and get you if he's hitting you!"

Harry shook his head, his green eyes thoughtful. "Oh no..." he said softly. "No, he answered all my questions. I learned more from that punch than I ever could have without it," he said cryptically.

The guard mentally agreed with everyone else.

Harry Potter had gone slightly mad.

* * *

To Be Continued... 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe save for the odd reference to a potion or spell that has not been detailed in canon and the odd Original Character that pops up later on in the fic.

AuthorsNotes: Thank you to those few who reviewed chapter 1 so far.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes**

-Chapter Two-

"FRED! GEORGE!" shouted Mrs Weasley from the second landing in the Burrow. The visiting brothers never stayed out of the dog house for long... and they were certainly in the bad books at the moment as Mrs Weasley brandished a rubber chicken threateningly while she searched the rooms for the twins.

The youngest Weasley son shook his head wryly and headed into the kitchen below, peering curiously into the bubbling saucepan on the cooker, catching the wooden spoon that was stirring the mixture to give it a little poke.

"Careful, Ron!"

Ron startled and turned quickly. "Mum! Thought you were trying to ground Fred and George again," he quipped, smiling faintly and leaning back against the counter next to the cooker as his mother took control of the cooking once more.

"Oh, those two!" Mrs Weasley tutted - the rubber chicken had obviously been disposed of. "If only I still could! All my babies will be moved away soon..." she sniffed.

"Muuum..." Ron sighed, cutting up a few tomatoes to be useful. "Don't. We're not all moving away... I'm still at school, thanks to Dumbledore telling Harry to stick around a bit longer... and Ginny won't be going anywhere for at least two more years."

Mrs Weasley said nothing immediately, just hummed quietly, then sighed herself. "Right, well... Are you feeling any better?"

Ron shrugged slender shoulders slightly, still lanky and almost gawky, which did nothing but prompt his mother to try and feed him all the time. "Yeah. Potions helped... it was just a bit of a cough."

"I'm still convinced you should go along to your father's doctor friend. He's a wonderful healer, you know... And this just isn't natural. You're picking up every whiff of a bug that's going around! Are you sure you're-?"

"Mum," Ron interrupted, pushing the chopped tomatoes into the pan, "I'm fine... just a cough... I don't need to see a doctor!"

Mrs Weasley looked uneasy, set the wooden spoon self-stirring again, then reached over to gently cup her son's thin cheek, rubbing a thumb over the faint freckles that it appeared he was going to grow out of. "You're a lot like your father, you know..." she murmured. "He was so much like you when he was young..." She looked a bit teary, then reached forward and hugged him. "What would I do without you, Ron? What would I do without any of you?"

It wasn't the first time she'd said such things... With the threat of war came the fears of many, and like any other concerned wife and mother, Mrs Weasley seemed to feel the pressure.

Ron would still never get used to it, though. He didn't think he'd ever been hugged so much during one summer holiday in his life! He sighed as he wrapped his long, slender arms around her back and patted it as she clung to him. She clung as if to let go would mean losing him forever...

The summer had been such chaos this year... On the up-side, Harry had spent virtually no time at the Dursleys' and had been in the Burrow by the middle of the second week... It had been nice to have Harry for the length of the summer, but it was hard to enjoy it... His dad had spent more time at the Ministry than at home, Ginny had spent most of her time in her room to avoid Harry... and his mum had - well - been acting like this.

He didn't fail to notice she acted this way around him more than anyone else too. She gave Ginny the odd cling-fest... and had even stopped chiding the twins long enough to give them hugs once or twice (until they untactfully suggested she was going through menopause, after which she chased them around again with threats of grounding)... But it was more often than not Ron who got this special treatment...

...Because he was the one who had nearly died.

"Mum... s'okay..." he insisted quietly, and allowed her to pull back. "Here, um... have some tea," he offered, which managed to get her to crack a smile. Not his fault he took after her - tea was all he could think to offer people in distress!

"I'm fine, dear..." she waved off after a moment to compose herself, and straightened his bright red hair a little as it had been mussed from the nap he'd been obliged to take on the sofa.

"Sure?" Ron asked, looking at her as one might watch a bomb...

"Mmhmm, of course. Dinner will be ready in just over an hour. I do hope your father is home with Harry in time for it tonight... He keeps missing meals working late! And I want you to eat everything tonight, for that matter, you're looking far too thin..." she fussed, and pressed a potion into his hands. "And take that! We don't want you picking up that stomach flu that's going around on top of that cough."

Ron groaned slightly... Not another potion. He'd have more potion than blood running through his veins at this rate!

Mrs Weasley tutted sternly, "None of that, now! Take the potion... don't fuss."

Ron sipped the potion with a grimace, shuddered, and suppressed the urge to reply that of the two of them - she had been making a lot more fuss lately. He allowed his mother to tug his grey t-shirt straight and smooth his hair once again, then politely retired to the back garden, needing some air.

* * *

Harry let himself into the house a few minutes later, taking off his cloak and hanging it up on the hook by the door, his face slightly painful from the bruising but it wasn't too bad. He'd cast a few healing charms on the way home so it was feeling slightly better.

He made his way to the kitchen and smiled fondly at the woman at the cooker. "Hi, Mrs. Weasley," he said softly. "Umm... Mr. Weasley told me to tell you he's working late again this evening and won't be home for dinner. Again," he added wryly with a regretful wince.

The woman sighed and tutted, before turning to give Harry a rueful smile. "Well, at least you made it - My goodness! What's happened to you?" she exclaimed anxiously.

Harry flushed slightly and hesitated. "Umm... I - I ran into a door. Twice."

Mrs Weasley blinked. "Odd thing to do..." she criticised.

Harry hummed. "Yes... umm... those Ministry doors can get confusing," he dismissed and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. "Mmm... but do I smell something heavenly cooking?" he asked, hoping to distract her with compliments.

"A beef stew... my own recipe," Mrs Weasley smiled, and let the pot simmer for a few minutes. "Ron's outside in the garden, by the way," she informed. "He was just here a minute ago... Still looks too pale to me - but I digress."

Harry tensed almost imperceptively and went over to lift the lid on the pot, staring into the bubbling stew for a moment unseeingly, before replacing it. "Pale?" he asked casually. "He's - umm... not still coughing, is he?"

"He has been a little from what I gather, yes, but he claims it's easing off..." Mrs Weasley sighed wearily, hiding a look of strain as she chopped onions.

Harry paused and looked sympathetic, reaching over to put a hand on her arm.

"He'll be okay, Mrs. Weasley," he assured softly. "His body is probably still recovering and all. He's bound to be sensitive to things right now! It'll pass and he'll be fine," he tried to console, telling her the same thing he'd been telling himself for a while now. He tried to make her believe it, even if he didn't entirely himself.

She looked around, brown eyes hopeful. "You think it might just be temporary? Part of the recovery process?"

Harry smiled slightly and nodded encouragingly. "I'm sure it is," he said confidently.

"Yes, perhaps you're right..." Mrs Weasley said, wiping at an eye. "Yes... that'll be it... yes... Thank you, Harry dear." She kissed the top of his head indulgently, and went back to her cooking, humming this time as she did so, her worries soothed for now.

Harry flushed slightly for the kiss, as always feeling a flutter of pleasure at the attention, and felt guilty for it. He'd never told anyone how much he envied Ron his family. It was a bitter irony to him, how he knew Ron had been jealous of his fame, but Harry would have gladly traded places with his best friend any day of the week. He'd have given anything to have someone worry over him the way Mrs. Weasley seemed to be worrying over Ron now.

He sighed heavily and headed to the back garden to find his friend, pausing to see Ron laying on the grass, his arms raised behind his head, staring up at the sky as the sun faded and the crickets and fireflies started to come out. Harry couldn't help a small smile, warmed by his friend's presence and yet worried at the same time.

Mrs. Weasley was right, Harry decided. Ron was definitely pale, his long, lanky frame stretched out and seemingly swallowed in clothes that were too big for him, which made him look all the thinner.

Harry hadn't failed to notice how Ron moved just a bit slower lately, almost carefully. And he hadn't said a word about his friend's coughs, fevers and sore throats. It seemed not a week went by that Ron didn't come down with something new! Harry was constantly on edge, silently staying close to his friend's side and letting the others fuss, trying to keep thinking positively, distracting him with small talk about stupid things like Quidditch.

He'd done the same thing after Ron had been poisoned. But if Harry seemed to not take it seriously, that couldn't have been further from the truth. In fact, he was downright paranoid, as worried as Mrs. Weasley was. But he knew he'd drive Ron crazy if he smothered him too!

Harry approached silently and lay down on the grass not far from him, mirroring his pose and cushioning his head on his arms and closing his eyes, sighing heavily.

"So... still think I was crazy to go?"

Ron didn't look around, didn't have to... He knew when Harry was close; it was like a sixth sense, born out of years of living in the same dorm, of sneaking around under invisibility cloaks together, of facing death and adventure depending on one another...

"Yep," he said.

Harry smiled slightly. "I think you might be right. He hit me. Twice."

Ron did look around then, and propped himself up carefully on a hand. "What?" he exclaimed, tone an odd cross between outrage and concern. "Oh shit!" he added, when he actually saw the evidence and reached over to touch the bruise - wincing when he made Harry wince. "Sorry... That bastard!!" he added, angry once more.

Harry rolled his eyes, flushing for the concern. "It wasn't like that! It was... playful. Well, the second one was! The first one was defensive because I got too close to the truth. But I found out what I needed to know," he said softly.

Ron looked incredulous. "Er... that you can bruise?"

Harry laughed. "Well, I already knew that!" he exclaimed. "I meant... about him. I found out the truth," he said softly and sighed, shaking his head. "I'm still processing it all. But... I'm pretty sure he's not as bad as we thought he was. I mean, he's bad! But... not in a bad way," he said softly and frowned. "I guess I'm not making much sense."

"'Much'?" Ron echoed, nonplussed, crossing his legs and quirking a red eyebrow slightly. There were African tribes untouched by civilisation who would be making more sense to him right now...

Harry sighed and shook his head. "I don't think he's evil, Ron!" he exclaimed. "He told me himself; he couldn't kill Dumbledore. He lowered his wand. He has a conscience! And I'm pretty sure his life hasn't been all roses either, despite what he's pretended."

Ron considered for a moment, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Okay... rule number one when it comes to bad guys, Harry... They lie!"

Harry shook his head. "No..." he said softly. "No, Ron... he was telling the truth. He tried to lie, to convince me he's still a bad guy! He said that Snape beat him to it and that's why he didn't. But that wasn't the truth and we both knew it. He admitted eventually that he just couldn't and he looked almost... ashamed," he said softly and winced, shaking his head. "He's pretty bad off now, Ron. He was wearing jeans! And he's freezing in that cell. He looked almost delicate! I felt... almost bad for him," he said hesitantly.

Ron sighed and shook his head. "He's just telling you whatever you want to hear, Harry! And he's acting to get a sympathy vote..."

He paused to cough into a hand, then sighed, inwardly annoyed by how run-down he felt. He had barely been awake an hour and he felt ready to take another nap already. "I just think he'll take advantage of you if you let him, Harry. I wish you hadn't gone... you've opened a can of worms here."

Harry frowned at Ron's cough. "I don't think so, Ron. He doesn't want sympathy from me. He doesn't want anything from me! I'd think he'd be insulted if I offered it," he said softly and sighed. "In any case, why aren't you in bed?"

Ron looked wry. "Because it's not even dinner time and therefore a little early to be going to sleep?" he suggested and sighed, carefully lying back on the grass again, staring up at the sky, which was now a dark-blue colour, high-lighted by the orange and pink clouds moving slowly with the wind that, at ground level, was merely a breeze that ruffled his red hair.

Harry sighed and lay back down, resting on his side, propping his head up on an elbow and watching his friend silently, biting the inside of his cheek thoughtfully and trying to think of how to tactfully suggest he rest without sounding like a nagging mother.

"Are you, umm... still tired? 'Cause... you know, if you are, I could have your Mum bring it up to your room and we could eat up there," he suggested.

"Bit tired... but I took a nap while you were out, so I ought to be fine now," Ron murmured, still watching the sky obliviously. He coughed softly once and cleared his throat a few times to try and disperse the soreness in his throat that still lingered from the week before.

Harry winced softly for it and silently summoned his cloak from inside the house, reaching over to put it over his friend.

"Your mother will have a fit if she knows you're outside in the night air like this," he said softly. In truth, he was having an inner fit! But Ron had been inside for a while now and he didn't have the heart to suggest they leave.

"Ugh..." Ron said eloquently. "She already had a fit... a clinging fit... getting weepy again and all sorts," he said, trying to make a bit light of it, though the real cause for it lingered like a grey cloud overhead. "What you giving me this for? I'm not cold..." he added indignantly, and pridefully handed it back.

"Yeah but - your Mum asked me to make sure you stayed warm!" Harry lied, putting it back over his friend. Damned if Ron would catch cold out here and make his throat worse.

Ron sighed softly. "Typical. Knew she wouldn't be satisfied with a potion..."

Harry hummed, tucking the cloak over him fussily. "Yes, well... good that she's worried, I suppose. I mean, mums are supposed to do that sort of thing, right? So she's just doing her job."

Ron was quiet for a moment, awkwardly propping himself up on an elbow and waving Harry's attempts to tuck him in off. It was too humiliating... It seemed like a better idea to sit up and just put the cloak on - which was eventually what he did, though it looked odd to wear a cloak over his plain t-shirt and his faded-blue jeans. He tugged the sides of the cloak forward over his chest a little, then sighed.

"Yeah... guess she's just doing what she has to," he agreed, made very aware of the fact that he should just be grateful he had her at all... unlike Harry...

To earn the truth, Ron had done a surprising amount of growing up over the last year or so... He had their fight to thank for that; it had made him acknowledge his own pettiness, and so he'd been careful since then not to go down a similar path... not to fall into the same traps... And, soon enough, there just hadn't been time for childish envy.

Adventures turned to nightmares... It wasn't a matter of saving the school anymore, not as simple as getting taken in a chess game or navigating the grimy tunnels under the school in search of a basilisk... Ron had grown up very quickly all of a sudden. Least, he liked to think so... Part of that growing up was being a lot more aware of those around him, more sensitive to them.

Harry was unaware of these thoughts and bit a lip thoughtfully, looking down at the grass and picking at it nervously. "Actually... umm... I lied."

"Huh?" Ron asked, blinking out of his musings.

Harry sighed heavily. "Cloak was my idea. I didn't want you to get too cold and make your condition... worse."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "My 'condition'?" he echoed, and narrowed his eyes a little. Sensitive or not - he could still be indignant, stubborn and prideful when the need arose. "It's just a bloody cough, Harry! And it's on the mend, not like a little fresh air will kill me!"

Harry frowned. "Damn it, Ron! It's not just a cough!" he snapped tensely.

"What do you mean? Of course it is! What else would it be? An elephant?!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It is now!" he exclaimed pointedly. "But next week it could be pneumonia! Or the flu! Or Parkinson's disease! Or something! You've been catching anything and everything and-" he cut off, swallowing thickly and for the first time, the strain seemed to show a bit in his eyes as he looked at his friend tensely.

"What if it's... I mean, it could be serious or something. What if you've got something bad? What if that poison hurt you somehow? I just--" he cut off, closing his eyes. "I just don't want you to take any chances," he said softly, trying to calm himself down.

Ron was silenced. He stared tensely at his friend for a moment, pale and shocked, tense and awkward... then silently looked down and picked at some grass himself with shaky, thin fingers.

Hermione would have been ecstatic; he was for once at a loss for words...

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat, opening his eyes and looked at his friend sadly. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I - I know you've been getting this from everyone else! You don't need it from me too. And - and I've not said anything because I know you don't need more stress and you're working things out yourself. I'm just worried about you, okay? Everyone is but... me especially."

Ron shrugged a shoulder slightly, raising bright blue eyes, looking through his red fringe. "You didn't say anything," he murmured. "I kind of thought... I dunno..." he trailed, thoughtfully, straightening and running a hand back through his hair slightly. "I mean, I got a bit of hysteria from Hermione after the poison... just a little. But we carried on as normal so - I thought it didn't matter."

Harry blinked in shock. "What? Didn't matter?" he asked softly. "You - you thought the fact that you almost died didn't matter to me?!"

Ron paled noticeably and held up his hands. "Don't say that!" he said, voice almost going high for a moment. Anyone saying he had almost died gave him a twisting feeling in his stomach... even thinking it himself gave him that feeling.

"Don't say what?!" Harry demanded tensely, reaching out to grasp his friend's shoulders and look at him intently. "It's the truth, isn't it?" he asked softly, green eyes glittering. "Don't you ever think that didn't matter to me, Ron! Damn it, I had to sneak sedatives from Madame Pomfrey's cabinet! You think I could have been that fucking calm without them?! I was trying not to panic because I knew if I panicked, you could! And--" he cut off, swallowing thickly, before doing something that was rare among guys in general, particularly for them, and he pulled his friend into a tight hug.

"Of course it mattered," he said softly. "You're my best friend."

Ron startled slightly, as if not sure what to expect, then his shoulders lost tension and he awkwardly hugged back, daring to defy all of the unspoken 'guy rules'...

He swallowed tightly, barely noticing his sore throat, and patted Harry's back lightly as if in comfort. "I'm sorry..." he said quietly. "It's really - I mean, it's not... That's not what I meant, Harry. I didn't mean - oh fuck," he sighed, frustrated with himself, and pulled back, gripping Harry's shoulders gently instead.

"Look, I didn't mean I thought it didn't matter to you, okay? I meant... me. I thought - because you didn't freak out - that I could pretend it didn't matter. I wanted to act like it didn't matter..." he admitted, looking weary.

Harry blinked, more to clear his eyes of unshed tears and looked confused. "But... it does... doesn't it?" he asked softly.

Ron slowly let go of Harry's shoulders, and nodded. "Yeah..." he said quietly, and smiled wanly. "Guess I just can't take it in my stride like you can, huh?" he murmured, with a faint scoff. "I thought ignoring it would be better... it's not like we have time to deal with this sort of crap now... We're facing a war."

Harry shook his head, reaching over to gently put an arm around his friend's shoulders in comfort since the hug had been released, but Harry still felt oddly clingy and was now free to express that.

"I didn't take it in stride. I just freaked out in private!" he exclaimed and sighed. "And yes, we do have time to deal with it, especially considering we won't have the time later," he said softly.

Ron stared at the grass, leaning against Harry's side for covert support, though he felt awkward and oddly sensitive to all touching right now... "I guess so," he murmured softly, then rolled his eyes at himself and raised his free hand to rub at his face though he was anything but tired now.

"It's just my own hang-up, really. I mean, it's creepy and a horrible experience to have, but it wouldn't have freaked me out to the point of ignoring it if not for this whole thing about hospitals and doctors in general I have... Over health issues in general really..."

Harry frowned. "Oh?"

"Uhuh... since I was little I've had fairly intense hang-ups about that sort of thing," Ron admitted, but seemed a little uneasy now, and was wondering at which point it would be best to shut up.

Hmm, he'd probably actually exceeded the ideal shutting-up point now.

Harry continued to frown. "You never told me this! What kind of hang-ups? What health issues?! Are you sick now?!" he asked worriedly.

Ron frowned slightly and scoffed. "No..." he murmured, shifting awkwardly and picking at grass again. "I just had to go to hospital a lot when I was a toddler."

"Why?" Harry asked softly. "What was wrong with you?"

"I was born with a heart defect."

Harry paled starkly. "A HEART DEFECT?!"

"Bloody hell, Harry... I don't think the entire village heard you!"

Harry pulled back and looked at his friend anxiously. "But - but a heart--- I mean... are you okay?! What was wrong?! Is it fixed?!" he demanded, and reached over abruptly to put his hand over Ron's chest in worry. "Shouldn't you be laying down or something?!"

Ron winced a bit. Yeah, see? This is exactly why he didn't bother to mention little details like that... well... not that it was a little detail... It had been a defining experience of his life... and the root of many an insecurity growing up... but still...

"Harry - Harry!" he cut him off, raising a hand to go over the one he'd placed to his chest. "Shh, calm down! Just breathe and - be calm!"

"I'm breathing!!" Harry exclaimed, taking several long, deep breaths to calm himself down. "But damn it! Why the hell didn't you tell me this?! This falls under the category of 'Important shit my best friend should know about me'!!"

"Well... your reaction right here is kind of a valid argument... Incidentally, please don't tell Hermione? She'd probably go weird and stuff too..." Ron said.

"Weird?!" Harry demanded. "Ron... worrying about your friend isn't weird! It's perfectly normal! Now... what's going on? What defect?!"

Ron sighed and lay back casually on the grass, noting it was a bit moist now in the evening air. Harry's hand thankfully didn't stay on his chest.

"Can't really remember the technical term. Something about a valve that was wrong or - missing or... not sure. Plus one ventricle was smaller than the other... But in any case, I had surgery on it when I was like three because I was really ill with it. Fixed whatever that valve thing was, so I've been alright since then..."

Harry winced softly. "My god, Ron... you were so small! No wonder you're terrified of doctors and hospitals."

Ron nodded, biting on his bottom lip for a moment. "Yeah, well... long time ago now... don't remember much about it, thankfully... but still. So are you happy now? I never meant to tell you that..." he added, almost mutinously.

Harry smiled slightly. "Not happy exactly but... glad to know," he said softly and raised an eyebrow. "What other dark secrets are you keeping from me?" he asked almost teasingly. "You're not really a girl, are you?" he teased.

"Yeah... I was actually born with a deformed heart and a vagina... just call me Veronica."

Harry laughed in amusement. "Right... well... okay, Veronica. My, you're handsome for a girl!" he teased.

Ron laughed softly and sat up, giving Harry's shoulder a light shove. "Oh, shut up..."

Harry laughed all the harder. "Maybe I should ask you out! Take you to the Yule Ball! You'd look so pretty with a ribbon in your hair!"

"Hey, now that's not funny..."

Harry sobered. "You're right. You'd look ridiculous with a ribbon in your hair," he said dryly with a chuckle.

Ron smiled a bit, obviously amused, then stood with noticeable care. "Git," he insulted good-naturedly.

Harry put a hand to his chest. "You wound me. Truly!" he exclaimed and stood up as well, pocketing his hands. "Seriously though, we shouldn't keep secrets from each other. I won't pretend everything is peachy when it isn't if you don't keep deep, dark secrets from your best friend. Deal?"

Ron considered, then nodded. "Alright... deal..."

He was halfway back to the kitchen door when he pondered, "Does this mean I should have told you when I lost my virginity?", and had to run in quickly before Harry could take a swipe at him, laughing as he went.

* * *

Severus signed what felt like the millionth piece of documentation, having spent a great deal of time going through the legal red tape to get Draco released that morning after the last judge had finally signed the order.

That done, Severus was escorted to the prison cells, keeping his features carefully blank as he entered the familiar area in which he'd been kept for a total of forty-eight hours before Dumbledore had appeared and cleared his name. He didn't envy the boy and knew he would probably be hungry since the food in this place wasn't fit for a rat.

The guard took out a set of keys and opened the cell door, revealing the dark interior and the blond figure which sat huddled on his cot in the corner, his back to the wall as he slept sitting up, cocooned inside a blanket and obviously emaciated, exhausted and filthy from the grime of the dungeon walls, having not been allowed to bathe more than once.

It was freezing cold, and Severus' first thought was that of silent rage for the boy's treatment. Draco, for all he had suffered, wasn't used to such conditions! He could get sick so easily...

But he was free, which was a miracle in itself, so Severus decided he would let it go for now.

He approached the cot, taking a seat on its edge, his eyes noticeably softening, though the rest of his features remained impassive as he took in the boy's bony frame, his eyes sunken into his sockets, his features all the sharper for lack of food, looking young and fragile.

As always, Severus didn't see the spoiled, arrogant boy Draco portrayed - and was, in some ways. He saw an infant. A helpless, crying infant, small arms outstretched as he lay abandoned in a cot, suffering from a lung infection which no one had cared to treat and asking for nothing more than some comfort and some medicine...

Severus reached for him now as he had then and soothed some blond hair back from his face.

"Draco?" he called softly, almost in whisper. "Wake up..."

Draco turned his face towards the wall on his left, exhaling a shuddered breath and automatically folding his frail arms about himself tighter, the action managing to disturb the blanket around his shoulders and allow it to slip off. He was extremely still once his position was altered, more like a statue than a living, breathing boy.

Severus looked worried as the blanket slipped off, revealing the bony shoulders and his upper torso, which were so thin and bony he was immediately enraged and turned to the guard.

"Are the lot of you blind as well as stupid and incompetent?!" he demanded abruptly. "Look at him! What were you going to do?! Let him starve to death?!"

"We've been feeding him! He won't eat!" the guard protested.

"Of course he won't eat! What you hand out isn't food! It's slop fit only for animals! This is a boy, not a bovine!" he snapped tensely and turned back to Draco, anxiously reaching over to shake his shoulder. "Draco? Draco, come on, son! Wake up!"

Draco tensed with consciousness immediately at the shaking, grey eyes blearily fluttering open, and cast about for a moment, seeking the source of the disturbance. He was finding it harder to stay alert since the previous evening...

The days and days without rest had been catching up and now he found himself dozing in an almost delirious fashion... not that anyone cared; in fact, he suspected it was a better deal for the guards --- they didn't have to file his many complaints or listen to him insulting them for the hell of it.

It was with the utmost shock, therefore, that he woke to not a guard, nor the interrogator, or even that wretched Potter... but his old mentor...

"Severus--?" he whispered, squinting. He might be hallucinating...

Severus smiled a small, twisted smile that lacked any humour and nodded, frowning as he saw his eyes were almost black. "In the flesh. And that appears to be all that's left of you! Flesh and bone. You've been too long in the dark too, I see," he said softly and took off his cloak, reaching over to gently put it around the boy warmly, the heating charm on it sure to be better than the blanket could have hoped to be. "I've come to get you out of here."

Draco scoffed wearily. "Amusing... yes..." he drawled faintly. "And I... am the Countess of Cornwall."

"Well, for a Countess you look like hell," Severus said dryly, taking out a handkerchief, wetting it with his wand and reaching over to wipe the grime off the boy's cheek. "I've been negotiating with various officials since your capture. I finally got one of them to listen to me."

Draco was silent for a moment, not reacting to the touch... Indeed, Severus was perhaps the only person in the world he managed not to flinch from.. "Seriously?" he murmured softly. "But... how?"

Severus hummed. "I think they got tired of hearing my belly-aching. Plus, there was a judge who had some sense of decency about him. He's agreed to release you. But there are... conditions... to the release," he said softly.

"No killing, raping or pillaging?" Draco drawled, so tired it sounded more like a slur.

"Among other things," Severus said softly and shook his head, tossing the grimy handkerchief into the corner of the dungeon in disgust. "But that can wait until later. Let's get you out of here first! Can you walk?"

Draco considered, then nodded slowly. "Of course..."

Severus looked doubtful. "Let's try it then, shall we?"

Draco nodded and shifted carefully to the edge of the cot and stood, glad for the cloak, as it seemed so much colder to be standing... He could feel his frame attempting to tremble, but frantically repressed the urge and focused on breathing... Just breathe, he thought... breathe. Dizzy... ugh, breathe...

Severus frowned worriedly at the boy and reached inside his pocket for a potion, putting it into a thin, bony, freezing hand. "Here... drink that. It should steady you a bit."

Draco looked down at the potion, then carefully sipped on it for a moment. He gained a little clarity, but more importantly, seemed to acquire a little more strength to his withered limbs... It was much-needed, and allowed him to remain standing with less trouble...

Severus nodded, seeing he was better, but knew that was artificial and only temporary. Draco was exhausted, emaciated and no doubt getting ill. He needed rest and warmth and food and no doubt a million other things, all of which gave Severus a headache just to think about.

"Come on..." Severus said softly, gently putting a hand to the small of the boy's back to guide him to the cell door. "Let's get out of here."

Draco didn't need telling twice... He walked for the door quickly, having not left it for days and even then never with the scent of freedom so close... but the moment he got out into the corridor lit brightly by torches, he hissed and covered his eyes with a hand.

Severus swore softly and reached for him, putting an arm around his shoulders and shielding his eyes with a hand. "Damn it, I should have thought of that! It's alright. Just keep walking, alright? Let me guide you. Just keep your eyes closed," he said softly.

Draco tried to pull his hand away to see again, only daring a squint, but he grimaced and breathed hard, the light so much a shock to the system that his eyes burned with it and actually hurt...

"I can't - I can't see," he breathed, turning on the spot and abruptly reaching out to feel for the walls, the sudden lack of independence scaring him more than the claustrophobic cell ever had.

"Draco, calm down!" Severus exclaimed, reaching for him and gently guiding him carefully. "Keep your eyes closed, damn it! Your eyes are sensitive and you could burn your retinas if you're not careful. I know you can't see. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark and are sensitive to light. Just calm down! I've got you, okay?" he said urgently, hating to see the poor boy in such fear.

Draco lashed out awkwardly with a hand, shaking with tension. "Don't touch me!" he snapped shakily. "I can go by myself!"

Easier boasted than done...

For ten agonisingly long minutes, Draco tentatively felt his way along the corridors using the walls, keeping his eyes shut and his head bowed so he couldn't even see light through his eyelids... His bony fingers gripped and clutched at stones carefully, his only guide.

Severus watched silently as the boy's pride kept him going, feeling much like he had when Draco had started walking. The boy had been so small for his age, truly behind in his physical development thanks to constant bouts of illness which his parents had ignored.

But the baby, almost as though sensing everything in his life would be a struggle for independence and strength, had insistently crawled and fixed small, bony hands to a table and started to try walking on his own. Severus had had to hold himself back, had had to keep himself from picking the child up and putting him in the cot. Instead, he'd hovered, just as he did now, prepared to catch him should he fall...

Draco nearly tripped when his foot encountered stairs, then just adjusted himself and slowly headed up them, being careful to keep the cloak out of the way so he didn't step on it and trip himself... He tensed slightly once he was in the hallway above. There was bright white light here... he could sense it through his eyelids... That would really hurt his eyes if he opened them now...

Severus let Draco get to the top of the stairs, but he knew the boy wouldn't be able to make it the rest of the way. There were corridors to navigate, people to avoid...

He reached out abruptly and gently took the boy's hand as they entered the office area. "Come on. I'll guide you the rest of the way, okay?" he suggested.

Draco humiliatedly conceded with a small nod, automatically clutching the hand back, and tugged his cloak tightly around his frame, glad he couldn't see any of the stares he got..

Severus guided Draco out of the building, feeling guilty for the secret little pleasure in his heart at having Draco depend on him and trust him to guide him. There had been many small moments like that over the years, scattered here and there, but so sporadic and unusual that Severus took note of each of them and silently treasured them.

He guided the boy into a carriage that waited outside and pulled the shades closed so it was a bit darker. "You can try opening your eyes now. It should be shaded enough for you," he informed as the carriage started moving.

Draco felt nauseated with the swaying of the carriage but once he'd opened his eyes and was used to the light level in the cabin, it got better, and he nodded slightly. "Thank you," he murmured composedly.

Severus nodded. "You're welcome," he said softly. "When we get to Hogwarts, I'll guide you to your room. It will take a few days for your eyes to fully adjust to light again. You should take things slow."

Draco found the idea distasteful... He could hardly walk around with closed eyes for days... and he'd had enough of staying in a room, so that would be out of the question. Still, he was taking things one step at a time at the moment and would cross those bridges when he came to them. He focused on breathing again, appreciating the fresh smells from outside the carriage... the scent of the odd tree or flower...

So nice to be-- Draco didn't finish, asleep again before he could rally all of the words into thought, resting his head against the windowpane, not even disturbed by the often bumpy ride...

Severus smiled almost fondly as the boy fell asleep and spent the rest of the carriage journey in silence, watching him sleep and pondering the great responsibility that now rested squarely on his shoulders. How ironic that he had achieved in Draco's disgrace what he had always aspired to have!

He was now Draco's guardian, his sole source of support. He decided when and what Draco ate, saw to his health, his education, his welfare and protection! The joy of that knowledge... the freedom to do for Draco the things he'd always wanted... was overwhelming.

So he began with the simplest of things, shifting to sit closer to the blond and reaching over to grab his wrist, feeling the gentle, fluttering pulse, which was oddly weak to his way of thinking.

This required more... advanced... equipment, he decided silently and reached for his wand to conjure a very familiar shiny, round object used by doctors worldwide. He put the stethoscope to the boy's chest covertly, listening to the heart, whose pulse he had just felt a few moments ago, but heard also the weakness and raspiness of his lungs.

The child had been afflicted with numerous lung infections in his youth that had resulted in heavy scarring. His breathing had always been affected since and he was prone to fainting, hyperventilating and other problems associated with lack of air when under stress. He'd once suffered respiratory arrest which had frankly scared the living hell out of Severus, but that was a long time ago and Draco was a bit stronger now.

In times like these, Severus still worried those old issues might pop up again - but for the moment, he decided the boy was simply exhausted from lack of sleep, low in his immune system, and in desperate need of a few good meals. He would need to be monitored closely for bronchitis or something else equally as bad though.

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the large castle and Severus gently reached over to soothe the boy's hair back and wake him up gently this time.

"Draco?" he called softly, his eyes dark with worry. "We're here..."

Draco shifted almost immediately, opening his eyes and sitting up straighter. He actually looked a little sleepy this time, which was extremely rare (firstly, because he so rarely slept, therefore rarely woke up groggy... and secondly, because even if he had felt groggy, he would usually have been able to hide it).

"What?" he murmured, rubbing at an eye. "Already?"

Severus silently swore to himself and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head at himself. Draco was too damn adorable and Severus was just too damn soft.

"Yes, we're here," he said, straightening and looking at him almost tensely now, knowing it would be impossible to ever distance himself from Draco, so he'd never tried. But he couldn't let the boy know that. If he did, he'd have a power over him no one had ever had.

Draco gave the man a brief, calculating glance, but it was only half-hearted and fleeting... He had other matters to attend to just now. With as deep a breath as his lungs could manage, he steeled himself, then opened the door and got out of the carriage, a hand shading his eyes, but determinedly keeping them open.

He saw nothing but white... burning white that seared the backs of his eyes... Each time he blinked, he saw a burned blotch then white again, but with blinks over a few painful minutes... he saw the first inklings of colour too.

Severus frowned darkly. "Draco, don't go too fast," he said sternly, stepping out of the carriage as well and taking his hand again like he had earlier, guiding him to the castle. "I don't want you damaging your eyes."

"Phhfft..." was Draco's soft reply, still squinting hard. He saw a little beyond the white now... but was still relieved to get inside the castle. With the great stone walls holding out most of the light save for what seeped in through windows, he could actually focus for the first time in days...

He saw the familiar floor... the familiar doors to the Great Hall... He saw the stairs and the portraits on the walls... It almost gave him a shiver of familiarity but, though he was pleased to be in Hogwarts again; a place he'd once thought of as a haven, he was also feeling lost... His purpose had betrayed this castle, he felt like he ought to have been shunned by it now.

Severus understood the boy's feelings, perhaps better than anyone. He too had betrayed Hogwarts by killing its Headmaster, and though he'd been under orders to do so... Dumbledore's orders... and all had ended well, he still felt as though him being Headmaster here was a mockery.

"You'll have a private room for now," Severus said softly, guiding him slowly up the stairs. "Until you've recovered, at least. I don't want you down in the dungeons where it's cold," he informed.

"Or where the Slytherins will beat me up," Draco drawled levelly, tone blunt and composed as he wincingly made his way up the stairs with him. He'd have no friends there anymore... Indeed, the gravity of the situation now that he was not incarcerated anymore was hitting home... Things would be - very different.

Severus hummed. "Yes... there is that. Perhaps a private room would be best for the rest of the year as well," he said darkly.

"Perhaps..." Draco said quietly, shrugging. "Then again... that would only promote jealousy."

"Yes.. it would. But as I'm the Headmaster now, they can just deal with it," Severus said bluntly.

Draco stumbled.

"Damn it, boy! Careful!" Severus snapped, reaching for a bone-thin arm. "If you can't bloody walk straight I'll carry you!"

"Ugh! I'd rather die..." Draco retorted, straightening with the help of the support, before drawing his arm free and tugging his grimy clothes straight pridefully. He frowned, "But did you just say you were Headmaster?! What happened to Dumbledore?"

"He's officially on holiday," Severus drawled stoically.

Draco blinked... twice...

"...Holiday?" he quirked an eyebrow slightly. "I see. Well, not to criticise the great one... but planning a break just as war is on the horizon is a little bit... unwise."

Severus smiled slightly. "Indeed. And if you believe Dumbledore is truly on holiday, then you're just naive. He's working on something. Until he's finished, he's left Hogwarts... incredibly... in my care," he said darkly, opening the door to one of the suites upstairs.

He stepped inside the luxurious room and went over to close the curtains so as to block the bright light from the windows. "Now... into bed with you!" he directed.

"I need a bath!"

Severus sighed heavily. "You also need sleep!" he exclaimed and then rolled his eyes, heading for the bathroom and started to draw the hot bath. "Fine then. You'll bathe and then you'll sleep. Could you stand to eat some soup as well?"

"No... I'll come back to that..." Draco supplied, taking off the cloak with a shaky fiddle of the clasp, then pacing slowly as he waited for the bath to fill.

Severus finished with the bath and put some bubbly soap into it, checking the water to make sure it wasn't too hot for the boy's sensitive skin and nodded. "I'll be just outside. Call if you need something. There should be plenty of soap and shampoo in the cabinets."

"Thank you," Draco murmured gratefully, then went into the bathroom and pushed the door to as he shed the ragged common clothes and slipped into the bath. Now that was proper warmth... He tingled all over and leant back so his head was on the edge of the bath...

The bubbles towered on the surface of the water, and for just a few minutes he amused himself by arranging them, then just relaxed as much as he was able and let the hot water do its best to cleanse...

The warmth started to made him feel dozy again... the first true warmth he'd known since before his capture... The soapy herbal scents also made it hard to resist the temptation to close his exhausted eyes. His body was just so unbelievably tired... so strained and weary...

Draco's hands went limp either side of the bath, and his eyes fluttered shut, leaning back in a comfortable, stable position... or so he thought. Once he'd relaxed with unconsciousness, he started to move... and sink...

One of his arms slid into the water while the other was awkwardly raised, almost so it went behind his head... His head that was under the water within seconds, too deeply out cold to wake up even when it wasn't air he was breathing in anymore.

Severus had a bad feeling...

He got them now and then and when he did, he was always sure to pay close attention. He tried to dismiss it as pure paranoia. Anyone who knew him knew he was naturally inclined towards thinking the worst. But his niggling worry persisted and eventually he could stand it no more and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Draco? Are you alright in there?" he asked, fully expecting the boy to come back with a sarcastic, disdainful retort.

The silence had Severus' heart pounding as adrenaline surged, his bad feeling now turning into full-blown nausea as he reached for the door handle, no longer caring about the boy's privacy and opened the door.

Terror wasn't an emotion Severus experienced often. He had grown up in a less than ideal environment and had seen things in his life-time that would no doubt strike fear into even the stoutest of Gryffindor hearts! But nothing could make him lose colour or shake in horror as the sight of Draco in danger could.

Severus rushed to the bath, bending down on his knees next to it and reached for the boy's dead weight, pulling him out of the bath entirely and dragging him to the floor quickly, spilling water over the sides and soaking his trousers, but he couldn't care less.

"Draco! Draco, wake up!" Severus called, cupping the boy's face and seeing that the boy wasn't breathing, and indeed his face was starting to turn an odd shade of purple.

Severus didn't stop to think as he began administering mouth to mouth, breathing life-giving air into the blond and pressing on the sensitive place just below his sternum. His breaths were hitching in panic, stripped of his precious self-control as he frantically worked to restore life, his mind whirling with horrible thoughts.

What if Draco's lungs weren't strong enough? What if he coughed up the water but went into respiratory arrest again? What if he couldn't be resuscitated? What if he DIED?!!

"Come on, Draco! Come on! Breathe! Breathe for me, son! I know you can!" he urged breathlessly, pressing on his the place below his sternum again and almost fainting as he saw Draco start to cough and turned his face to the side so that the water could pour of his mouth.

His relief was short-lived as Draco started to breathe, but only very shallowly, his lungs weakened from the strain and Severus once again worried about infections and respiratory arrest. He reached for a large white towel, wrapping the blond up in it and dragging him into his lap on the bathroom floor and summoned a breathing mask from the infirmary, placing it over his nose and mouth and forcing oxygen into his body.

Severus held him close, cradling him as he would an infant, rocking him comfortingly and clinging as he gave him oxygen and tried to stop himself from shaking...

Draco's eyelids started to flutter, waking to oxygen-induced dizziness... He coughed quietly a few times, surprised to feel how heavy his chest was, how hard it was to breathe - even more so than usual... And there was plastic against his face... and... he was cold again...

He shivered weakly, coughed again, then opened his eyes properly to see the bleary form of the potions master above him. He could see that it was his hand holding the mask to his face... and in automatic fear and distrust, Draco weakly squirmed and tried to turn his face away from the breathing mask as though it were something harmful.

"Don't move!" Severus exclaimed in panic, his own breaths still hitching breathlessly and he soothed the boy's wet hair anxiously with his free hand. "Shhh! Don't move, Draco. It's alright. I've got you, okay? Just breathe!" he urged and looked strained to the point of breaking as he bent to rest his head to the boy's, still rocking him gently. "My god... you haven't scared me like that in a long time..." he confessed shakily.

Draco tried not to tremble as he weakly raised a hand to feel the professor's face, holding his cheek... He couldn't see properly enough in the bathroom with the big light on... "Sc-ared you like wh-en?" he croaked softly, and coughed hard for a moment into the mask. Ow...

Severus winced softly, leaning into the hand automatically. "Not since you were twelve and had that concussion..." he said shakily and swallowed thickly, trying to compose himself with effort. "Are you okay? Does your chest hurt?" he asked worriedly. "You must have passed out in the bath and - slipped under! It was my fault! I knew I shouldn't have left you alone!" he berated himself fiercely.

Draco started to get a hazy picture of the sequence of events. "Pass... passed... out?" he murmured, then shifted weakly, trying to sit up. "Chest... hurts, ah..." he winced a bit, tensely. The mention of the concussion gave him a fairly clear idea of what must have happened; he had to have stopped breathing... again.

Severus shook his head. "Don't try to move, damn it!" he exclaimed and sighed heavily, picking the boy up in his arms as he carefully stood, keeping Draco in the towel and carrying him out of the bathroom, laying him down in the bed and covering him up warmly with the blankets. He reached for Draco's bony hand and placed it over the mask at his face.

"Hold that there. Don't let go, alright?" he said, and removed his hand and took out his wand, waving it to dress Draco in some comfortable pyjamas and then took out the stethoscope he'd had previously and put it to the boy's chest, hearing the faint gurgling in his chest and rasping of the weak lungs. "You still have some water in your lungs. Hopefully you'll cough it up. I'm going to give you something to prevent infection, okay?"

Draco weakly nodded in reply.

Severus summoned the medicine kit from downstairs and took out a syringe, giving the boy an injection in the arm since he decided it wasn't a good idea to make him ingest anything orally at the moment after what he'd been through.

After administering the shot, Severus grabbed a hot water bottle and put it in the bed with Draco and cast several warming charms as well. He reached over to soothe the boy's wet hair, casting a charm to dry it, knowing that going to sleep with damp hair could lead to sickness.

"Alright... just try to relax. What I gave you should ease some of the pain as well and make it a bit easier to breathe. Just keep this mask on, alright?"

Draco's chest still only rose and fell shallowly with the pulses of air administered from the mask to prompt him... but he nodded slightly again, thin features ashen in colour. "Ok-ay..." he breathed, coughing softly with the irritation of water, then making up for it with a couple of shallow rasps.

Severus watched him silently, before looking strained again and cupped his cheek. "Try to sleep now. I will be back to check on you in a few hours. If you need anything at all, there's a cord by your bed. Just pull it and I'll be here as soon as I can, alright?"

Draco would have liked to take advantage of that offer... but new he was honestly too weak to exploit it at the moment. "Alright..." he breathed, allowing the touch unflinchingly. "Will I...?" he began, but trailed.

"Will you... what?" Severus prompted softly.

"Will I... wake up... if I go to sleep now?"

The fearful, innocent inquiry had Severus' eyes going suspiciously glassy and a muscle worked in his jaw perceptively as he nodded shakily. "Yes, Draco..." he whispered softly. "I promise you'll wake up, alright? You're going to be okay," he promised.

Draco looked almost doubtful. "...Really?" he murmured softly.

Severus' eyes glittered fiercely and he reached for the boy's hand, holding it in both of his almost protectively.

"I swear on my grandmother's grave that you are going to be alright, Draco," Severus said softly. "You're safe...and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I will never lie to you and tell you that you're okay when you're not; I never have and I won't start now. You've been through a lot and your body is weak and I'm worried about infection, but we'll do what we can to prevent that. You have my word... you'll be fine."

With only that simple yet earnest reassurance, Draco's hand went lax in the gentle hold, and his eyes fluttered closed with unconsciousness again.

Severus closed his eyes and buried his face in his hand, taking several long minutes to compose himself again. With Draco, his emotions were always close to the surface. He had been completely unprepared for the power that small child had had over him from the very beginning. Even now, he couldn't get used to his weakness.

It defied even his own instinct of self-preservation. He would willingly die for Draco... and the part of him that was probably still smart told him what a fool he was. And it was true; he was. But he couldn't help it. It was because of Draco he would never be a Death Eater. It was because of Draco he fought to stop them. It was because of Draco he had spent so many years balancing between worlds!

He had never thought to love anything or anyone, but he did.

Severus sighed heavily and stood up, making sure the boy was warm enough, before slipping out of the room quietly to attend to other matters. He had a school to run, reality to face, wars to fight, students to make miserable.

He tucked his heart safely away from the world once again and went out to face the world without it.

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Please Review! More to come soon... xxx


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe save for the odd reference to a potion or spell that has not been detailed in canon and the odd Original Character that pops up later on in the fic.

AuthorsNotes: Thank you to those who reviewed chapter 1+2 so far (all five of you: score! sarcasm implied).

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**-Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes-**

Chapter 3

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Ron finally managed to tear himself out of his mother's tight hug... He was relieved when he managed it, as oxygen was unfortunately a necessity and while being hugged, he was often in short supply of it.

As well as being short on oxygen, she had left Ron short on words... He went literally speechless as (once realising from a comment Harry made that he knew about Ron's heart hiccup) she had proceeded to regale the family with all the details on the way to the station. Fred and George had rolled their eyes, able to remember a bit for themselves and having since heard the tale many a time to anyone who was unfortunate enough to touch on the topic while visiting... Ginny had just been put off her mid-drive snack.

If Ron never heard his mother talk about the doctors cleverly stopping his heart beating but managing to keep his blood moving in order to mend the value defect, it would be too soon! He knew she just talked about it to deal with it, even now finding the topic oddly upsetting... but still... really...

He hadn't slept much in the night, despite having no cough, and so that wasn't helping his mood...

"Ron! Go in that compartment, quick, before those Hufflepuffs get there first..." Ginny urged.

"Alright, alright! Keep your bloody hair on!"

Ginny smiled sardonically, "Calm down, Ron... Don't want to upset your heart now."

"Oh, piss off..." Ron grumbled, and got them into the compartment and started lifting their bags to go in the overhead shelves.

Harry sighed, shaking his head as he approached. "I checked all the other compartments. I can't find Hermione anywhere!" he exclaimed and bit a lip, awkward around Ginny, not because he felt awkward, but because he knew she did. "I guess it'll be just us. I'm sure we'll catch up with her."

Ron looked mock-disturbed. "Oh no... and she's usually the person to boss me around on the train! Ginny, guess you'll have to take on that role for me..."

"No problem. Sit down, Ron! Don't slouch! Put that cage up there... not like that, like this... Tuck your t-shirt in! Those jeans aren't ironed! Your hair needs brushing-"

"Hey, Ginny! I meant in moderation!"

Harry laughed in amusement. "Well, she's right. Those jeans aren't ironed. But I have to disagree, please don't tuck that t-shirt in! That would just be bad.." he said with a shudder, putting his own stuff up in the upper shelves.

Ron quirked an eyebrow, looking down briefly and personally having no idea which would look better... and not caring either. It was just a boring old navy-blue hand-me-down to wear over boring navy jeans... The significance of tucking it in would be lost on him.

Ginny pursed her lips a bit, then stood up with a sigh, looking distracted. "I think I'll go and find Neville..." she said, and left quickly.

Ron hummed, sitting down next to the window and watching Harry put his own bag out of the way.

Harry bit a lip. "Was it something I said?" he asked wryly with a sigh. "You think she'll ever stop avoiding me?" he asked, hating the idea that their friendship was ruined. He really cared about Ginny! She was fun to be with and he considered her a close friend who-- Well, of course there had been the other aspect to their relationship. But... for some reason that had always been a bit more confusing than the rest of it.

Ron shook his head. "Don't know, mate..." he sympathised. "Girls are mad."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it!" he exclaimed, glad they could agree on a topic. "Ron, I swear I've had no luck with them! I just don't understand them! I mean, I do in some ways. It's odd; I can sit and talk to a girl for hours over just about anything! But when it comes to relationships, I feel completely inept! We just don't speak the same language!"

Ron raised an eyebrow slightly. "Harry, we're not supposed to understand them... To understand them we'd have to be like... gods!" he supplied. "Same pretty much goes for just getting along with them... I mean, to be able to talk to them all the time, without any bias or underhanded tactics... to stand their company even when they're talking about boring girl stuff... to go to the shops with them, to listen to them talk about feelings without getting drowsy...? It's all something only a god could manage! Or a gay guy..."

Harry blinked blankly. "Wait... so.. what are you saying?" he asked with a shaky laugh, taking a seat and looking almost... awkward. "That - that you have to be gay in order to like talking to girls about their feelings and - and stuff?"

"Pretty much..." Ron said wryly. "Well, you know! Don't you just tune out all the time when Hermione starts going on about her feelings? I mean, granted, they're usually boring, indignant feelings over house-elves, but still..." he shrugged thin shoulders and looked at the platform as the train started to pull away from it.

"Umm... well... no," Harry admitted softly. "I actually find it quite interesting! I'm more inclined to tune out when she starts talking about books and stuff to be honest, but when she goes on about her feelings that's better, because it's something I can understand and get in to! Same with most girls. It's just deep conversation! And they're not boring. You know, she's got a lot of good ideas about those house-elves! I can understand why she's so upset over them," he informed seriously.

"She's just doing her best to try and make a difference in people's lives, Ron. I don't understand why that would be boring! But maybe that's why a lot of girls want to talk to me. I don't tune them out," he said wryly.

Ron put a hand to his heart in mock-outrage. "Harry, you're a traitor to your gender! Take that back," he said, and then looked dry, tugging his navy t-shirt straighter over a shoulder as it was too loose. "But maybe you're right... maybe that is why they talk to you. That and the fact you're famous! Need to keep an eye out for gold-diggers..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Please... Gold-diggers?" he asked with a light smirk. "It's not like being famous at this point is some huge privilege! My every move is monitored, criticized publicly and then debased. And that may be why they talk to me initially admittedly, but in the end we end up as friends. Perhaps that's for the best anyway. I still think a relationship right now would be bad news," he said softly and hesitated, having not touched on this topic before with Ron.

"You, umm...understand why I broke up with Ginny... right?" he said softly. "I really didn't mean to upset her Ron. I just... I guess after Dumbledore died... or supposedly died... I was afraid of losing anyone else."

Ron kept looking out of the window, freckled features pale but set. "Yeah, Harry... I know," he murmured. "Think she knows too. She's been pretty accepting, surprisingly. She's just avoiding you anyway for some reason."

Harry sighed heavily. "Yeah. I guess I pretty much messed up our friendship. Which stinks because she's really awesome to hang out with!" he exclaimed and bit a lip. "So-" he began, but was cut off as the door to their compartment was suddenly opened and Harry was left blinking.

Luna Lovegood stood in their compartment door, her blond hair straight and pale down her shoulders, tied back at the sides with daisies (he had to wonder if they were real). She wore her regular Ravenclaw uniform, but with a complimenting necklace made of paperclips. But that wasn't what was surprising about her appearance! Harry couldn't help but notice how the young girl had shot up an inch and filled out in other places. She was now sixteen and growing up fast.

Harry smiled at her charmingly, unaware that he was the only boy on the train so far who had been able to speak to her without stuttering. "Luna. Wow! You look wonderful! I like your daisies," he complimented, deciding her style was unusual but at times kind of neat.

Luna smiled back vaguely. "Thank you. Picked them myself!" she said and came in, taking a seat next to Ron. "Ginny and Hermione are discussing things of a secret nature. Apparently that means they wish to be alone. I can understand, of course. Naturally, they suspect I might be wishing to tell my father all about their secrets and publish it in his paper! Still, kind of insulting they didn't just ask me to keep it in confidence," she added with a small frown, oblivious to the fact that no one took her father's paper too seriously. "In any case, I hope you don't mind sharing."

Harry shook his head. "No, not at all," he assured, fond of Luna despite her oddness - which he suspected wasn't as bad as people claimed as he'd already discovered there was some truth in her beliefs and logic to her odd reasoning. "Ron, is that okay with you?"

Ron was narrowly avoiding a gape, like every other male on the train besides Harry... His blue eyes had widened and his eyebrows were a little raised. Luna had always been a bit of an oddity... but now she was not so much an oddity as - an odd beauty! She had frankly been doing a hell of a lot of filling-out over the summer...

He almost wondered if she'd just padded a bra or something because surely so much couldn't change over a matter of weeks?!

"Erm, I - we - uhh, yeah..." he managed, clearing his throat and trying to look collected and cool. Phhft, yeah right... not likely... Wow...

Harry raised an eyebrow. What was wrong with Ron?!

Luna looked equally as confused, wondering why Ron seemed to be acting like everyone else. Even Neville had stared at her with wide eyes, turned red and excused himself. She was starting to wonder if she'd been hexed! But getting the reaction from Ron was worrying. She had always gone out of her way to try and be less... unique... around him.

But that hadn't helped, so she'd stopped trying. She'd silently resigned herself to watching him from afar, refusing to be one of those pathetic girls who followed a guy around and drooled over him as if he were a piece of meat.

But truly, could anyone blame her? Ron was funny... and she suspected a bit odd like herself, though he did his best to hide it. She saw secrets in his eyes, depth to his soul and his aura was so sweet and soothing...

And he was hot. That always helped. You'd have to be blind not to do a double-take at that red hair, those blue eyes, that handsome face and that body! Wow... But she tried to be above the carnal aspects of human nature. Tried really hard...

"Thank you.." she said softly at last and fought the oddest urge to flush, before blinking as she saw Ron clearly for the first time and frowned in concern. "Have you been to a doctor?"

Ron instantly lost his slack-jawed expression and frowned. "No! And I don't need to see one, thank you very much!" he said, taken aback and inwardly annoyed. Was it that obvious? Did he look so ill that even Luna could tell?

Luna frowned slightly. "Are you quite certain?" she asked and reached over to place a hand on his forehead. "You have a fever."

Ron pulled back from her hand, pressing himself into the corner of the compartment by the window. He would have flushed if he wasn't too pale; flustered by both the touch and the fact she knew... "Nah, I don't..." he denied, since Harry was looking tenser. "I'm fine!"

"He's lying," Luna informed Harry bluntly. "Remember that people fall from lofty ledges," she told Ron almost pointedly.

Ron frowned further. "They do not!" he retorted. "I'm not just being prideful here, I'm perfectly fine... I'm fit as a fiddle! If a horse is fit, they say it's as healthy as me..."

Luna reeled, and this time it was her turn to go slack-jawed. He understood her! He'd... actually understood it! Was she becoming clearer somehow?!

Harry blinked blankly. "How did we get from falling off ledges to horses?"

Apparently not.

Luna frowned slightly. "Fiddles aren't fit unless their strings are tightened, and even horses have their teeth checked now and again."

Harry was now completely lost.

Ron scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well... not this fiddle, not this horse..." he insisted. "I'm going to go and meet the trolley early and get something to eat," he added, standing up and sliding passed Luna awkwardly to exit the compartment... It was obviously just one of those days... weird days...

Luna looked crushed as Ron left and sighed softly. "I must have walked under a ladder or done something else wrong to put the rain clouds in the sky," she said softly.

Harry bit a lip, seeing she was upset and gently shifted to come over and sit next to her. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, knowing, unlike Ron, that Luna had a crush on the redhead. She wasn't the only one, of course! But she was the only one who blatantly tried to get his attention besides Lavender, and the fact that she seemed clueless as to how to go about it endeared her to him.

Luna nodded slightly. "Yes... my eggs aren't broken," she said vaguely and tucked a strand of blond hair behind an ear and abruptly leaned up against Harry's side, sensing he was safe like Neville was (or had been). "I should drink from the Well of Fortune -- if I could find it! They say it's supposed to lead you in your right direction. I might stop wasting my time trying to pursue the wrong ones then," she said softly with a pensive frown.

Harry smiled slightly. "Aww... you don't have to do that. Don't take it personally, okay? Ron's just going through a hard time right now, I think," he said softly.

"Well.. anyone would. Mortality is a huge thing to come to terms with. I'm sure that's why he refuses to get his teeth checked or his strings tightened. He's afraid," Luna said softly.

Harry blinked at her in surprise. "Afraid? Ron?!" he asked the idea startling because Ron didn't seem afraid of anything, except spiders. But not something like this. "You think that's why he - umm... won't see a doctor?" he asked, not sure why he'd need his teeth checked.

Luna nodded slightly. "Of course," she said softly and bit a lip. "But you can't force a blind man to see. He must come to terms with this in his own way," she decided and pulled back to look at Harry. "And you? Are you alright?"

Harry smiled slightly and nodded. "I'm better. Hard summer but... Dumbledore being alive has improved my mood considerably."

Luna blinked blankly. "I don't understand."

Harry frowned slightly. "Well... he was dead!"

"Yes. And?" Luna asked. "Didn't you realize it was just temporary?"

Harry frowned. "No! Of course not! Who thinks of death as temporary?"

Luna laughed uproariously. "You are so funny!" she exclaimed and hugged him for being so silly and trying to cheer her up.

Harry blinked blankly and patted her back. Nope... she was still odd as they come...

Meanwhile, Ron was having a dilemma... Cauldron cake or pumpkin pasty?

"Don't have all day, dear," the witch prompted gently. "If it's so hard to choose, just get both and have done with it," she smiled.

Ron muttered something incoherent about not having enough money for both. He finally picked up the cauldron cake and dug about in his navy-blue jeans pocket for a few sickles to pay with.

"Thank you, dear..." the witch said kindly and paused before picking up the pasty. "Here, why don't you have this on me?"

Ron stepped back as if she was offering him a spider. "No, no thanks! I'm fine..." he shook his head, the idea of accepting her charity unbearable. He might have been dirt poor, but he wasn't going to stoop that low, after all...

The witch shrugged and moved on, leaving Ron to carefully eat his cake in the corridor... He'd tried to locate Ginny and Hermione on his way down, but hadn't had any luck. They were either further back on the train or he'd missed them.

Not that he was dying to see Hermione in any hurry anyway, he thought pridefully, giving his left forearm a rub in memory. Bloody birds...

Neville Longbottom made his way down the corridor and smiled when he saw Ron. "Hello, Ron!" he greeted, tall and thinned out now and a bit handsome, to be quite frank, though he flushed any time someone told him so. "Have you seen Luna anywhere?"

Ron turned around, pale features forcing a faint smile. "Hi, Neville... Yeah... she's with Harry in our compartment, back that way..." he gestured.

"Ah... her and... Harry," Neville said, folding his arms. "I, umm... probably don't want to disturb them," he said softly with a slight frown, refusing to admit to being jealous, but the truth was he knew Harry was popular with girls. They all came and talked to him and Luna was no different. "So... how was your summer?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"Alright, I guess," Ron said quietly, shrugging and absently pulling out some of the vials of potion his mother had forced on him before he left. He took a sip, hoping to bring his temperature down before they got to Hogwarts. "And you? How's your arm?" he asked, knowing that Neville had pulled a muscle fairly painfully in the siege at the end of the previous year.

Neville nodded. "Better. All healed except for when I try to lift anything really heavy," he informed. "What about you? All healed from Hermione's siege of birds? Girls are crazy, aren't they?"

"Yep... mad as snakes..." Ron muttered, then tensed. "Speaking of snakes, did you hear Malfoy was caught?"

Neville nodded. "Yeah... I heard," he said softly and frowned. "About time too, I say. After what he did, I hope they toss him in a cell and throw away the key!"

"My thoughts exactly..." Ron sighed. "But Harry's got other ideas. He actually went to see him. Said he felt - sorry - for him."

Neville blinked. "Sorry for him?!" he asked. "He led the Death Eaters straight to us! Got them in the castle! He's tormented everyone, day and night! How could anyone feel sorry for him?!"

Ron shrugged. "Don't know... He's convinced Malfoy isn't really all that bad. And said he was all fragile and wearing jeans - whatever difference that makes."

Neville frowned slightly. "You should be careful, Ron," he said seriously.

Ron raised his eyebrows. "What d'you mean?" he asked, puzzled.

Neville shifted. "Nothing. Just... I mean, there's a lot of odd rumours and stuff so... just make sure Harry doesn't get to close to Malfoy, if you know what I mean."

"Umm... no," Ron admitted blankly, then frowned. "You mean Malfoy might try to draw him in and trick him? Ugh - I knew it! I was warning him of that very thing!" he said, putting his potion away and folding his arms irately.

Neville groaned softly. "No. I mean, yes! Well... sort of. Damn it," he muttered and bit a lip, seeing an empty compartment and pulling the redhead towards it. "In here," he gestured and sighed heavily. "Okay... umm... I'm not supposed to say anything because your sister threatened me with bodily harm! But... have you ever noticed anything... peculiar... about Harry? I mean, not peculiar! That's the wrong word. Just... different?"

Ron looked at Neville cluelessly. "Er... you mean like... he's got a Dark Lord after him? Survived the one curse in the world that no one is supposed to be able to live through? Has his face in the paper a lot?"

Neville rolled his eyes. "No! I mean, that's all odd and stuff. But I mean other things. Like... have you ever noticed how he talks to girls but he doesn't really hit on them? He's got more girls after him than any guy in this school and yet he does nothing about it? And I've never seen him so much as comment about how a girl looks... except about her clothes. And he's had two failed relationships now and Ginny thinks--" he cut off and sighed heavily. "Well... she didn't want to say anything but... she thinks Harry might be gay," he said quickly.

Ron paled starkly, eyes going wide with shock. "WHAT?"

Sexuality was not as big an issue in the wizarding world as in the muggle one. For well over a century gay marriages had been allowed... and while you still got the odd prejudiced witch or wizard, it was in general an excepted state of being.

That didn't mean it wasn't a shock to Ron to think that his best friend might be gay when he'd never sensed any such thing himself.

"Shhh!!" Neville hissed, covering his mouth. "Please, don't say a word! Please, please, please! Ginny threatened to shave my head!" he exclaimed. "It's just... she noticed stuff, you know? Stuff only a girlfriend would know. She says he didn't react like a guy normally would, if you get my meaning. And... other things. She just knows! And she thinks... I mean.." he pulled back, wincing and looking awkward. "She thinks the reason why their relationship failed isn't just because he's gay, but because he's in love with someone else. Umm... you."

Ron hadn't thought he could get more shocked after the first statement... Apparently that wasn't accurate... He lost whatever colour he'd retained from the previous pale and very nearly wavered.

"Oh my god..." he breathed, almost in dismay. "Harry's - I mean, he--" Harry was in LOVE with him?!

Neville nodded seriously. "Yup. She doesn't know for sure! But you guys are awfully close and all. But she's certain he's got a thing for someone because all the time they were together, he was distracted and she knew he was thinking about someone, but she didn't know who. She figures it was you though. And the reason why I'm bringing this up is because if Malfoy knows about it, he could like... give Harry a love potion or something! I'm just saying, you should be careful. At least if Harry stays in love with you he won't join the other side out of helpless devotion!"

"How can you be so calm about this?!" Ron asked erratically, starting to breathe very quickly, running his hands back through his red hair, almost shaking in shock. Merlin's boxers... this was a nightmare!

Well, he was flattered, of course - but...

Oh shit, if Hermione's feelings were what they sometimes appeared to be... and Harry was in LOVE with him, he'd managed to make BOTH of his best friends fall for him!

"I think I need to throw up," Ron said, looking strained.

Neville looked worried and grabbed a bin in the corner. "Oh dear! Oh dear... Calm down, Ron, okay? Maybe it's just a crush or something, you know?" he suggested anxiously.

"But if what Ginny says is true-" Ron began, cut off, and sat down with the bin on his lap, looking nauseated. He admitted this might not have been solely due to the revelation as he only had to note how warm he was feeling to know his fever hadn't abated... but still, it wasn't helping either.

"No, it can't be a crush. Don't you see? I'm some kind of - of - of sex magnet! I'm a danger! The amount of raw sexual magnetism I'm giving off must be phenomenal... and it effects both genders!" he said wildly.

Neville looked dry. "No offence, mate... but you don't exactly have Veela blood in you. You're an okay-looking guy! Don't get me wrong... And I'm not gay or anything!" he said quickly. "Just making an observation. But I don't think you're a magnet or a danger. I think you should just talk this out with him!"

Ron sobered and his self-esteem plummeted back to its usual low level as common sense returned. "Hmm, yeah... suppose so... That'll be a fun conversation."

Neville felt almost bad as Ron got this odd look in his eyes, hating to spoil his moment of thinking he was a sexual magnet.

"Right... well... I mean, if Harry does like you, it sucks.. for both of you. I'm sure it's... difficult... falling for your best friend," he said tensely, thinking of Luna.

"Tell me about it," Ron scoffed softly, picking at a fingernail for something to do, staring at his lap.

Neville raised an eyebrow. "Yeah... I guess you and Hermione have a lot of issues to still work out."

Ron raised his blue eyes again, then shook his head. "No... nothing to work out really... We don't have any - understanding or anything..."

"But... you do like her right?" Neville asked, almost tensely. "Because, I mean she's very pretty! Despite being slightly psychotic."

"She's not psychotic... she's – umm - passionate," Ron defended wearily, then frowned slightly. "What's it to you whether I like her or not?" he retorted.

Neville shifted slightly. "Nothing," he denied. "Just that you should settle on one girl, you know? Stop letting the others dangle."

"What others?" Ron scoffed. "Lavender? Ugh... please, I'm nauseous already."

"No! Not Lavender!" Neville exclaimed. "Just... others! You've got other girls who like you besides Lavender and Hermione, you know," he said with a frown.

"Come off it... I'm not really a magnet..."

Neville scoffed. "Maybe not for everyone. But... well... Luna sure likes you," he said mutinously. "But don't get too cocky! It's just a small crush. She'll get over it," he said firmly.

"Luna?" Ron echoed and scoffed. "No chance. She laughs at me all the time! And just now basically told me I looked sick!"

Neville rolled his eyes. "She thinks you're funny, which is why she laughs! And if she notices little things about you it means she's paying attention. The fact that she cares enough to focus to pay attention is just like a big sign that says 'Take me I'm yours' but again, it's temporary!" he exclaimed firmly. "I mean, two years is nothing in the long run."

"Two years?" Ron asked, looking taken aback, and then awkward. He wasn't entirely sure he believed this or not... He was getting overloaded with information.

Neville rolled his eyes. "Yeah... well...again, don't take it too seriously. She'll be fine. In any case, don't tell anyone I told you this, okay? Promise?"

"Yeah... promise..." Ron murmured, distractedly, standing and going for the door. "Umm, well... catch up with you later, okay?" he asked, patting his shoulder as he passed him.

Neville nodded. "Sure," he bade, pocketing his hands and retreating the other way as well.

* * *

Draco woke to an achy feeling in his chest and the soft hisses of the breathing mask still over his mouth and nose. He raised a hand and slowly drew it off, blinking and gradually allowing his memory to catch up... Hogwarts...

After sitting upright, he rubbed his bony chest a little and was pleased to note that other than being somewhat more delicate and possibly more inclined to breathlessness, he felt generally better...

The sky outside was dark blue and orange, the last vestiges of day fading into the darkness of night... He could hear carriages, and there was a low buzz of noise that told him students had started to arrive downstairs...

Ah. Problem.

Draco stood and walked carefully over to the window, squinting silver eyes to peer out into the dimness; it was easier to see in the near-dark... Carriages were still making slow progress from the direction of the station, led by the fowl skeletal horses that looked like they belonged in grim fairytales, but a number of students must have already been inside. Ripples on the dark lake and a few small pinnacles of lantern light indicated the first years were also drawing nearer...

But.. what should he do? He could stay up here, avoid notice and censure for another night before inevitably facing the music in the morning to attend classes... Or he could get tidy, get dressed, go down and take his place at the Slytherin table... The chances of securing an important position at the table were remote now, but he could still make a show of being present...

Draco looked down at himself for a moment, plucking distastefully at the pyjama t-shirt... which wasn't silk... and sighing. The idea of going to the Welcome Feast was, frankly, less than appetising... though he couldn't say he'd turn down a proper meal. But it was better to get the entrance over with... better to establish his return quickly, and then have nothing to worry about but lessons come morning...

Lessons... and war... and people out to kill him... and money... or lack thereof... not to mention the futality of human strife and the inevitability of death...

With a frown, Draco turned away from the window and started to peer into the drawers in his room, hoping to find clothes - preferably a uniform... He was going to cause a stir as it was without entering wearing casual attire... But alas, he found little in the way of clothes, and what little there was, was not a Slytherin's uniform. He could have summoned something from his school trunk, which was undoubtedly still in the Slytherin dormitory... but frankly, he wasn't feeling at his best, and didn't think the spell would hold...

He could sneak down to it, perhaps? But that would only promote more trouble... The Slytherins didn't attack in public, but in private...? Not that Draco had ever been on the receiving end of this, of course; but he'd witnessed it... even instigated such behaviour once or twice.

It was all done in the name of power... or rather, the game of power, as he considered it. Every action had to promote either fear or power as respect could be gained from possessing either or both... And if you looked too weak to be the leader of the pack, you were torn apart accordingly to make way for someone else's rise to power...

Draco had been good at the power game... had been taught the rules well, knew more than a few loopholes and cheats... He had been accomplished. The only area in which he had failed was Quidditch... and that had been blamed more on Potter's excellence more than his failings, luckily...

Excellence his arse...

It was in the middle of his clothing quandary that Draco noticed a parchment folded on a chair, and warily picked it up to skim. It was addressed to him, and signed by Snape... and - oddly enough - it seemed to outline a set of - rules?

"_Draco,_

_You were too exhausted earlier and frankly didn't look particularly receptive to a deep discussion, so I unfortunately must convey to you the terms of your release in this brief missive. The conditions of your release were as follows:_

_1. You are restricted to the castle and its grounds for the next three months. It is a kind of house arrest and you may only leave unless I or someone else whom I have authorized are with you._

_2. Your adult status has been revoked. You are still considered in the eyes of the law to be a child, and while you may seek employment and pursue your education, you may not live on your own at any time until you are twenty, nor may you marry or enter into any kind of legal contract without the consent of your guardian._

_Which leads me to the third._

_The guardian mentioned above is me. You have been entrusted into my care and anything you do will reflect on both of us. If you refuse to adhere to these stipulations, they will return you to prison and you will be tried as a Death Eater._

_I'm sorry, Draco. I know this isn't the ideal situation you would have wished for, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape._

_P.S. - You don't have to attend the feast if you don't want to. Stay in bed, relax and I can have something brought up to you_."

Draco's lips pursed and went nearly white with fury, confusion, shock and dismay combined...

"What?!" he shouted at the letter, then read it quickly again, the first skim surely having been a mistake...

No! Not a mistake... He was restricted to the grounds, he was now considered a CHILD and he depended entirely on Snape for permission to do anything! Was he allowed to piss without permission?! What about breathing... could he breathe?!

Okay, so perhaps he was allowing a little exaggeration... but this was absolutely ridiculous... He had no idea he had been so stunted in the terms of his release. It was basically just another kind of prison! No cell, better bedding and food, but he was still ultimately a prisoner...

Pouting mutinously to himself as he had no company to complain to, Draco balled up the letter and threw it onto his bed... fairly pointlessly... but it allowed him chance to vent, at least. That was, incidentally, about the extent of Draco's ability to 'vent'. That, or perhaps a veiled comment of insult to someone who was irritating him... In general, all of Draco's frustration went unnoticed... That was how it as supposed to be, but it was also just in his nature...

He was a contradiction in many ways.

"Well, maybe I don't want to stay in bed and 'relax'," he muttered to himself, looking through the drawers more critically now. In fact, just out of spite, he was going to make himself go... even if that meant going in plain clothes...

He would get all of the... necessary unpleasantness... over with.

A pair of black slacks that, while not silk or velvet or anything special, were extremely smart and flattering on his bone-thin frame and a plain white button-up shirt were what Draco eventually decided on. The shirt had suitable long sleeves, good for hiding the odd bruise and the incredible thinness of the limbs and when tucked into the slim-fitting black trousers, gave him a smart-casual look that, while not a uniform, was very dignified...

Pleased with his choice, Draco brushed his hair straight, combing until not a hair was out of place, then headed down to the hall to where the other students were strolling into place...

* * *

Severus could feel the students' dissatisfaction and it silently grated on his nerves as he sat at the head table with the other professors, feeling completely out of place in the Headmaster's chair and frankly wishing he could just melt into the seat and hide. He glanced up and met the eyes of Harry Potter, who was glaring at him as though he were the devil himself.

He smiled thinly, almost arrogantly, at the boy, seeming to say 'If you thought you were miserable before, Potter... you've seen nothing yet' and turned his attention to the blond who tried to slip quietly into the room. But Severus, and indeed several others, didn't fail to notice.

There were small gasps of shock and then noticeable whispering as Draco Malfoy's presence became known.

Harry didn't miss his presence either and in fact was the most shocked, having just visited the blond in his cell yesterday! His eyes widened in surprise, watching Draco as he came in, dressed smartly in black slacks and a white shirt, making him look elegant and refined, a stark contrast to the jeans and filthy shirt he'd been wearing last time he saw him.

Harry's mouth literally dropped open and he stared in shock as he took a seat at the table, having just walked in a few minutes ago himself with Ron, actively searching for Hermione.

"It's Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed to Ron in shock. "I can't believe it! He told me didn't think he'd be getting out! Why do you suppose they released him?"

"Got sick of him?" Ron suggested darkly, Neville's warning forefront in his mind... not to mention the other things he'd said. If he was giving Harry a wider berth than usual, he excused it with not wanting to pass on his flu.

Harry hummed, watching as the blond took a seat at the far end of the table and sighed. "Right... well... suppose we'll find out later," he said softly, silently deciding he would have to speak to Draco later and find out what had happened! But he was more concerned now with finding a seat, wanting desperately to speak to Hermione. Ron had been acting a little funny since the train, and he needed some normalcy at the moment. He grinned when he spotted her not far away, talking to Ginny.

"There! Hermione!" Harry called, approaching his friend and reaching forward to pull her into a hug automatically. "Where've you been? We tried to find you on the train!"

Hermione Granger returned the hug instinctively, rather surprised by the exuberant greeting. Her brown hair was pulled back away from her face with neat pins and she was, as usual, pristine in her pressed uniform. She had been deep in a rather... fascinating... conversation with Ginny, but was more than happy to stop and greet her best friend. She pulled a smile across her gentle features, which had softened from their more severe look in her youth as she had blossomed into a young woman.

"Hello, Harry," she greeted softly. "I'm sorry; I should have come and sought you out earlier, but, um... I was detained," she said tactfully and tensed slightly when she saw Ron, her brown eyes not missing how pale and tired he looked, which only confirmed the reports she'd been getting from his mother.

"Hello, Ron. I'm also really sorry I didn't get a chance to come and see you both this summer but my parents were rather insistent about us spending time together. I think the mention of war has unnerved them," she explained. "How are you feeling?" she asked, a small note of worry in her voice, which was like the tip of an iceberg poking out of the sea, concealing a much greater and paranoid worry inside.

Ron shrugged one thin shoulder, which almost made his school robe slide off the opposite one. Stupid second-hand robes.. "I'm fine," he replied. "S'nothing... just had a bit of a cold... among other things," he dismissed.

"He's actually feverish according to Luna," Harry said pointedly with a slight frown. "And he's been getting sick constantly all summer!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow pointedly. "I see..." she drawled and frowned. "I do hope you've been taking care of yourself, Ron! You do of course realize that a cold can evolve into something far more dire like pneumonia. There was a study done not to long ago about the progression of diseases; I really think you should read it! In any case, I'll make sure Madam Pomfrey is aware of your condition so she understands to keep plenty of cold medicines on hand. Also, you should eat something healthy, particularly foods rich in vitamin C. I'm sure your immune system is weak and that could be a contributing factor to being chronically ill. But if this persists, you really should speak to a doctor!" she lectured superiorly.

Ron bristled and frowned, "You don't have to tell Madam Pomfrey anything! And I don't want to eat something healthy! There's nothing wrong with my immune system and I am NOT going to a doctor!"

Hermione frowned. "Ron, you're being childish and irrational! Of course you want to eat something healthy, you ninny! And why wouldn't you want to see a doctor? They're the heroes of our medical community! Without them, there would be over a million more diseases and people would be dropping dead right and left! You should feel privileged that you can even see a doctor when there are children in third world countries who can only dream of such an advantage!"

Ron looked at Harry. "I'm going to kill her.. Will you help me bury the body?" he said, deadpanned.

Harry smiled shakily. "Ron, she's only trying to help," he assured softly and sighed. "Hermione, please! Just calm down. Ron will be fine! He's just... very sensitive right now. Let's all just calm down, take a seat and... focus on more important things."

"Such as why Malfoy has been released from prison when he was facing multiple charges of conspiracy and by all rights should have been expelled!" Hermione exclaimed, obviously seething over the blond's presence and glaring at him from across the room.

"Yes! Exactly... Now that's a worthwhile topic," Ron agreed with her for once, taking a seat at the Gryffindor's table and giving the blond across the room an intent glare.

Harry winced. "Oh come on! Listen, I know what he did was bad, but he was acting under duress!"

"So you claim!" Hermione exclaimed. "And I still think you were mad as a hatter to go and visit him Harry. I told you in my letter that you should be careful. He's probably brain-washed you now. Just because he didn't kill Dumbledore, doesn't make him good. People aren't just good and bad, Harry! Even Snape, who is obviously utterly vile, has some good in him or he wouldn't be Headmaster."

"I disagree," Harry replied. "I think he could still be trying to trick everyone into thinking he's good when he's not! I don't know what happened between him and Dumbledore, but I know what I saw and whether or not it was a setup, I don't believe for a moment Snape is anything but a traitor," he said firmly.

"I see. So you're willing to believe that Snape is a traitor when all evidence is to the contrary, and yet you will believe in Malfoy's innocence without any kind of substantial evidence to back it up other than your theory that he has a conscience?" Hermione asked pointedly.

Harry frowned and turned to Ron. "You're right. Let's bury her!"

"I have the shovels if you can name the plot..."

"Oh please!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly with a roll of her eyes, but was smiling slightly in amusement. "Fine then. I won't try and save you from yourselves. You can both live in your delusional worlds and forget logic entirely."

"Now you're talking sensibly," Harry agreed.

Ron smiled wryly, propping his chin up on a hand, trying not to doze off because he was getting tired again.

Hermione frowned. "Are you alright, Ron? You're looking tired. Have you been sleeping properly? You know sleep-deprivation contributes to illness!"

Ron felt his head fall down onto the table with a dull thud.

Harry looked worried and reached over to gently soothe his friend's hair. "Ron? Ron! Are you okay? Are you awake?"

Ron startled a bit at Harry's touch, twitchily straightening and leaning back. "Yeah, yeah... I'm awake - I'm awake. What?" he asked challengingly, then rubbed at an eye slightly. "I'm not tired..."

Harry and Hermione shared a look, both of them unconvinced. "I think you should get to bed after this, Ron," Harry said seriously.

Ron paled. "What? Did you just say— 'we should'? Why would I go to bed with you? I mean, I wouldn't!" he exclaimed rapidly. "I think you're the one who's tired, oh yes! You - not me!"

Hermione frowned. "What? Ron, no! He said he thinks you should go to bed! As in... alone... to sleep!" she clarified.

"Oh," Ron said. "Right..."

Harry looked at his friend wryly. "You're definitely in need of a good rest," he said firmly.

But the rest of their conversation was cut off as The Sorting finished and Severus Snape stood up and approached the podium. Silence filled the Great Hall as all eyes turned to him, and he cursed himself silently for the small twist in his stomach. He'd always hated public speaking! But his features were impassive and stoic as he addressed the students. He'd agonized over his speech, but decided to keep it short and simple.

"As most of you are aware, Professor Dumbledore is not with us at this time. I realize most of you would rather have a paper cut in the eye than me as Headmaster. Well... tough! We're stuck with each other. So let's put aside our belly-aching and deal with it. While most of you no-doubt expect me to banish laughter and squeeze the goodness out of the school, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed. I don't plan to change a thing. Just do your work, stay out of my hair, obey the rules-" he said pointedly, casting a glance at Harry, "-and we'll all be - one big happy family," he said dryly, his sarcasm evident, before taking a seat and leaving it at that.

Ron quirked an eyebrow slightly, chin propped on his hand again, elbow on the table. "Gee... can't wait..." he muttered, but the silence was so complete that he was easily heard.

Severus heard him and raised an eyebrow. "I'm very glad you're eager to spend time with me, Mr. Weasley, and are so enthusiastic about helping to facilitate a warm, nurturing, family environment in this school. Taking that into consideration, I'm sure you'll have no objection serving detention with me after school tomorrow! You can be put to good use to help advance the agenda I just laid out for everyone," he said sardonically with a thin smile.

Ron swore with a word that rhymed with 'duck' and got a slap on the arm from Hermione for it. Great... he'd never managed to get detention before school even started before... and now his arm was sore.

Harry winced softly. "Sorry, mate. Rotten luck," he said sympathetically.

Hermione looked indignant. "Serves you right, actually." she said softly. "Sarcasm only gets you into trouble, Ron!"

"No, really, Hermione?" Ron bit back sarcastically.

"I'm just saying!"

"Well maybe you should try not saying!"

Hermione pursed her lips and worked hard to keep herself from retorting.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just leave it, Hermione," he encouraged.

He sighed heavily, worried about his friend, but couldn't help himself as he strayed several glances Draco's way, wincing as he saw he was getting fairly tormented by the Slytherin boys. He was being flanked by two others who were obviously having a nice time teasing about him about something. Harry had to wonder if they'd turn violent at this rate...

"I'm not that hungry," Ron admitted quietly. "Maybe I can slip off early."

Hermione put her fork down. "I'll come with you, Ron. I'm not very hungry either tonight. I had something to eat on the train and a big breakfast with my parents this morning. Still a little full from that," she explained.

Ron was too tired to argue. "Alright..." he murmured, standing with slow, careful precision and tugging his loose robe over his white button-up shirt, untidily untucked. "Night, Harry..."

Harry nodded. "Goodnight..." he bade, but his attention was more focused on the blond whose plate was now overturned on the table thanks to one of the Slytherins.

There were a couple of angry Ravenclaws cheering on the torment, everyone obviously holding a grudge for Draco's betrayal. Harry watched tensely, for some reason quite angry and defensive on the blond's behalf and hoped he wouldn't have to get involved...

"Awww... what's the matter?" one of the Slytherins taunted Draco openly. "Don't have your Daddy to protect you so now you're not so tough, are you? You crawling back to school on your hands and knees now that you failed to impress the Dark Lord?" he asked. "The ickle baby needs to be protected! Do you need a change too?" he taunted.

Draco stood up stiffly, the Slytherin next to him still sitting. He put the napkin down carefully beside the overturned plate, grey eyes dilated and cool. "I don't... but I think you do," he drawled.

The Slytherin's plate abruptly flipped, seemingly of its own accord, throwing all of its sloppy mash and gravy contents down the boy's shirt.

Draco looked mocking. "Oh dear... did you make an 'ickle mess'?"

The Slytherin glared in outrage and wiped at the front of his shirt, briefly intimidated by the wandless magic, but choosing to ignore it.

"You insolent, traitorous bastard!!" he snapped. "You think you're so tough now, do you?! We'll see! Boys!" he exclaimed and snapped his fingers in much the same way Draco used to do when he was commanding and two large Slytherin boys, more muscle than anything, grabbed Draco from both sides and pulled him out of the Great Hall before anyone could stop them.

It was time for a little payback, as almost all of them had at one point been crushed under Draco's heel.

Draco twisted. "Let go..." he demanded imperiously, and was almost shocked, despite himself, when they didn't.

One of the large Slytherins laughed. "Lookie what we've got here, boys? A little prince handing out orders! I think we need to show the prince what happens when he steps down off his pedestal, don't you?"

"Yeah..." the other one said and yanked on his hair brutally before slamming him up against the stone wall face-first, not caring when he saw blood pour out of his nose. "So what do you think, boys?" he asked eagerly. "Should we tie him up and stuff him in a cupboard... or do we drown him in a toilet?" he asked wickedly.

"No..." the ring leader of the pack said with an evil smile, coming over to the blond and looking at him as one might look at a bug. "Don't you realize who you're talking to? This is Draco Malfoy!" he exclaimed, giving a mock-bow as he extended his arms regally.

"We need to have something special prepared for his highness. Something unique. We'll shave off that precious perfect hair of his, and then we'll see about hanging him naked upside-down in the dungeons. We have our fun with him first though. Tell me, Draco... do you remember when I was a second year? What you had Crabbe and Goyle to do to me?!" he asked angrily, his blue eyes glittering with hate. "Payback's a bitch, isn't it?"

Draco leant back against the wall he'd just been slammed against, face bloodied as was his pristine white shirt. He didn't touch the bleeding nose, though, and just looked at the talking Slytherin levelly. He was trying to remember his name... but all he could think was... Gene... and that couldn't have been right. Or maybe it was; that would explain his frustration.

"I can't remember," he admitted in drawl. "You obviously weren't a memorable case... Gene, isn't it?" he ventured, then hummed. "Actually, now that you mention it... I think something's coming back to me," he said, and strode forward, kneeing the Slytherin in the groin. "Was it something like that?" he asked, and slammed his back with an elbow when he bent with pain. "And perhaps something like that afterwards? Yes... it's all coming back to me now."

The Slytherin bent over in pain. "GET HIM!!" he shouted in agony.

And the two Slytherins wasted no time either. They were big and muscular and Draco Malfoy was thin, weak from his captivity and lack of food, so it was like crushing a pile of sticks in between two large stones as they backed him up against the wall and pummelled him with their large fists.

Gene stood smiling thinly. He had once marvelled at Draco's power... even envied it... and he'd emulated his every move so he could one day be just like him. And now he was, and he was practicing on his old unknowing mentor.

It was a beautiful thing.

The two Slytherins were abruptly thrown back by some invisible force, knocking them both against the opposite wall and Harry was suddenly there, coming to the blond's side and worriedly taking stock of his injuries. His white shirt was now stained in blood and his breathing sounded odd and raspy.

"Draco? Can you hear me? Are you alright?" he asked, worried the boy might be seriously hurt.

Draco lay on his side at the base of the wall, kicks to his stomach having forced all of the air out of him. He was paler than snow... and just closed his eyes when the blows ceased, able to dimly tell when they stopped.

Who was talking to him? Oh no. It was Potter.

"Stay out of this, Potter!" Gene shouted. "Or you'll regret it. This is between him and us!" he snapped tensely.

Harry glared at Gene angrily, pointing his wand at him. "I don't think so. Just back off, Montgomery! I mean it. He's not a toy for you to have your sick fun with!"

Gene's face turned pink with rage. "What the hell is it to you?! You hate him more than all of us combined!! Have you lost your mind?!"

"Yeah... maybe I have..." Harry said softly. "Or maybe I just found it. Either way, back off!" he said softly, his wand glittering threateningly.

Gene shook tensely and stepped forward, almost nose to nose with Potter, ignoring the wand pointed right at him. "This isn't over, Potter," he said softly and pointed to the bleeding Slytherin on the ground. "He's got a lot to pay for... and I'm going to make sure he does! If you want to play guard dog, you better watch him very, very closely, because I promise you, if you leave him alone with me, he's going to get hurt," he threatened and turned to his friends. "Let's go. This isn't fun anymore," he informed superiorly and left.

Draco opened his eyes, peering up at the Gryffindor with dilated grey eyes. He scoffed softly, which brought blood to his lips. "Had to... stick your nose in, didn't you?" he murmured, and slowly managed to pull himself up to a sitting position, then to a stand.

He didn't so much as waver and calmly started to brush his clothes off. "Would have been better if you'd just let them have their way. It's better if they think they've hurt me," he drawled, pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of his slacks and casually starting to wipe at the blood from his nosebleed.

Harry frowned. "Draco, they were hurting you!" he exclaimed. "Or do you think bleeding is a sign of health?" he demanded.

"What, that?" Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, give me some credit, Potter... that was nothing! A nosebleed and a few bruises..." he scoffed, and turned, airily making his way down the next corridor. He'd have to think of another plan now, to get them off his back.

Harry looked perplexed and followed him. "Wait... you mean you wanted them to beat the living shit out of you?!"

"Of course," Draco drawled, folding the handkerchief and using the other side to dab at the blood on his shirt, not wanting it to stain. He waved his hand at the shirt a moment later, giving in, and effortlessly cleaned the stain away with magic. "If I didn't want them to, Potter, I could have easily stopped them," he drawled, and it wasn't a brag but a matter of fact.

Harry bit a lip. "Oh..." he said softly, folding his arms and seeing it was true. He didn't look any worse for wear! "Umm... well then, I'm sorry for coming to your rescue! Obviously you didn't need it. But do you mind if I question the wisdom of deliberately seeking to get yourself beaten up? Are you some kind of masochist or something? Because if so, there are treatment programs for that sort of thing."

Draco stopped walking and turned to regard the Potter, raising an eyebrow. "Are you still here? Go away, Potter..." he enunciated clearly.

Harry frowned. "I'm trying to make some friendly conversation here, Malfoy!" he snapped, going back to his last name since he was being so bloody difficult. "And if that was any indication of your reception, you can use all the friendly conversation you can get! I doubt anyone else will want to give you the time of day just now."

"Yes... I'm being punished indeed. They want nothing to do with me and you apparently do," Draco drawled sardonically. "Forget punishment... this is a curse."

Harry glared, almost hurt by the blond's words. "Well, excuse me for sticking my nose into your business! You'll pardon me if I felt bad for you and wanted to help! I suppose you're not used to that. You don't like people unless they're big, fat monsters that eat everything in sight and only hang around you so they can soak up the popularity!"

Draco rolled his eyes and turned on his heel. "Just leave me alone, Potter, you've already done enough damage," he drawled, heading for the nearest staircase and starting up it, coughing between a few shallow breaths softly.

"DAMAGE?!" Harry demanded in outrage, truly insulted and frankly quite baffled as he followed him up the stairs. "I saved you from being an IDIOT and that's damage?! I was trying to help you, you ungrateful prat! Just like I was when I came to prison to visit you! Which reminds me; what are you doing here anyway? I thought you said they'd never let you out!"

"Well, they did!" Draco shouted back down, and started to hurry faster... Was Potter allergic to doing as he was told or something?! "Go away, leave me alone!"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "Not until you talk to me! Why did they let you out? You were being charged with multiple offences; I checked! Not least of which was letting the Death Eaters into the castle."

Draco stopped at the next landing, frustrated but also out of breath. He leant against the stone banister for a moment, bone-thin chest heaving beneath his cleaned white shirt, and tutted in irritation. "Snape pulled some strings... alright? I'm here... restricted to the grounds... and under his guardianship. There... happy?" he asked breathily.

"No..." Harry said softly and frowned in worry. "Are you okay? You look like you're going to faint again."

"I DO NOT FAINT!"

"Fine! Lose concentration!" Harry exclaimed mockingly. "Either way, I think you should sit down. Are you sure those guys didn't hurt you seriously? Those fists looked like granite and you're kind of... well..." he trailed, not wanting to be insulting.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Kind of... what?"

"...Delicate."

The torches on the walls in the stairwell flickered.

"I'm what?" Draco inquired, voice dangerously quiet. "I suspect you don't quite understand the meaning of that word, Potter," he said, spitting his name with distaste. "I am NOT delicate!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not an insult, Malfoy!" he exclaimed. "I guess I should say you look delicate! All sharp lines and - and very skinny! And the fact that you're pale doesn't help."

Draco was livid yet almost flattered at the same time, which made for an odd combination. He managed a loud 'ugh!' of frustration, then went to the next set of stairs and sat down on one of the bottom treads and turned his back against the banister as he fought to catch his breath.

Stupid bloody Potter! This evening could have gone so well...

Harry rushed to catch up with him, looking concerned as Draco put a hand to his chest while getting his breath back.

He sat down not far from him hesitantly and sighed. "So... do you want to tell me what exactly it is I ruined? Some loving Slytherin ritual where you all beat each other up? Is that how you bond?" he asked wryly.

Draco scoffed wearily, looking ahead at the Potter stoically. He raised a thin knee slowly and shrugged, folding his arms over his chest despite having not quite successfully caught his breath back yet.

"It's all about the power game..." he drawled softly. "He thinks he's beaten me down... he gets the illusion of power... To bask in that power, he leaves me alone for a while..."

Harry frowned. "For a while... but then he just comes after you again! Wouldn't it be better just to stand up to him and make sure he knows not to mess with you at all?"

"Not really," Draco murmured quietly. "The Slytherin system is complicated... but there are basic rules... and they ought to be adhered to. I used to be at the top of the chain... so I did what one does at the top. Now I am near the bottom, so I do what is expected there too... just with a little extra edge. I still like to be in control... I always deigned who was to be picked on and when... The same still applies; only I am the victim now."

Harry's green eyes glittered. "No..." he said softly. "That system of yours is horrible, Draco! Why you would even lower yourself to play by their rules is beyond me! You're better than that," he said firmly.

"Fuck off."

"I'm serious!" Harry exclaimed. "Maybe it's arrogant of me, but I could never give anyone even the illusion that they had power over me when they didn't. You shouldn't have to be anyone's victim, Draco! You shouldn't have to lower yourself by letting them get the upper hand over you just so they'll leave you alone! It's not fair, and frankly it's demeaning to you to even consider being a part of it. And I won't allow it," he said firmly.

"Oh, you won't allow, will you?" Draco murmured. "Wow, then I guess that's settled. Harry Potter says..." he mocked stoically, rolling his grey eyes. "My affairs are none of your business."

"Perhaps not, but you've made a fine mess of them on your own! It's obvious you could use a little help," Harry replied. "I don't fancy the idea of coming across you being pummelled by Slytherins all the time! So... I'll protect you," he said firmly. "I'm not sure what classes we have together and I know I can't be around all the time, but there's strength in numbers."

"You know... with material like that... you could actually make it as a comedian, Potter."

"I'm serious!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm not going to just stand by and watch them torment you. That's what you would have done," he said sardonically.

Draco looked weary, repressing the urge to fan himself for air... He'd have gone up the stairs to find the nearest window to open, but doubted he'd make it all the way up without... losing concentration... at the moment. His pale features were pinched and taut with annoyance.

"You're a... meddling bastard..."

Harry smiled slightly. "I'll take that as a compliment," he quipped and sighed. "Are you ready to go yet? Where are you going anyway? The Slytherin common rooms are in the dungeons!"

"I have a private room..." Draco murmured, perhaps unwisely. He should have guarded the location of his room on pain of death... especially from Potter who, as it turned out, would probably insist on turning up to see him or something equally horrific!

Harry's eyes widened. "You get a private room?" he asked and grinned. "That's awesome!! Can I see it? You can decorate it yourself and everything!"

"Ugh..." Draco said softly, raising a hand to rub at a temple, deciding he was going to get a headache. "You know you're far more annoying when you're nice than when you're trying to be mean," he complained mutinously, pushing himself to a stand, though he wobbled briefly and had to grip the banister for a moment until he was stable again

Harry looked worried. "Are you okay? What's the matter?" he asked, noticing him wobbling.

"Nothing."

"Liar. It's not nothing! You're still breathing shallowly, you just lost a lot of colour and your hands are shaking! Are you going to lose concentration again?" Harry asked tensely. "Maybe we should get Madame Pomfrey to look at you!"

"Shut up!! I am fine, you brain-dead cretin!" Draco snapped waspishly, forcing himself to slowly take to the stairs.

Harry's eyes widened. "Wow... a cretin now!" he exclaimed with a small smirk. "I must really be hitting a nerve," he said, following him up the stairs. "You're new at this though, so I'll excuse it."

"I assure you I'm not new to insulting at all... I'm quite proficient, as I will gladly prove to you if you don't sever yourself from my company."

"No... I mean this whole friendship concept. Obviously, it's new to you! So I'll excuse your rudeness for now," Harry dismissed, silently hovering in worry in case Draco fainted again.

"Friendship?" Draco scoffed, almost spluttering on his breaths for a moment in incredulity. His chest felt tight and weak with his struggled shallow breaths, but he just kept walking, really hoping the Gryffindor would just lag behind. "That's the... last thing... you and I have!"

"Oh?" Harry asked and shrugged. "I don't know. Stranger things have happened. Snape is the Headmaster of Hogwarts, you turned out to be a fairly nice person after all! I mean, granted you're rude and insulting and violent, but I think that's just your defence mechanism. I think it could work."

Draco would have welcomed lack of consciousness suddenly. Better than listening to Potter drivel... He reached his room and twisted the handle quickly, allowing access, and turned and hastily tried to shut the door on Harry, but he pressed to try and gain entry.

"Go away!" Draco insisted, trying to get the door closed, but frankly not physically strong enough to win.

Harry pushed inside the room. "What's the matter, Draco?" he asked pointedly and narrowed his eyes. "Do I frighten you?"

"About as much as a disabled ant!" Draco snidely retorted. "You're about as harmless. But you are just as irritating!"

Harry cocked his head curiously at the blond, before smiling thinly, almost knowingly. "I do," he said softly, confidently and nodded as he took a look around. "Nice place..." he complimented, pocketing his hands as he strolled through it. "Not a lot of personal items around though, are there? Where are your things?"

"Oh, gee... must have left them in my homely cell..."

Harry frowned slightly. "Do you need some clothes? I have some extras you can borrow. You'll have to shrink them though."

Draco went over to the windowsill, chest still feeling tight, and getting dizzier as he went for so long with unacceptably shallow breaths. Ow... not good, not good... not... good...

He sank down carefully onto the windowsill, opened the window, and tried to encourage deeper breaths as the cool air rushed in in the form of a breeze... It didn't help, so to compensate for his breathlessness, he abruptly started to hyperventilate (completely involuntarily, of course!), so weak yet harshly that he practically rasped with the effort it cost him.

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed, rushing to his new friend's side and putting a hand on his shoulder in worry. "What's the matter? Calm down! Don't panic!" he exclaimed, not sure if Draco truly was panicking but that was what he thought of when he saw someone hyperventilating. "What's wrong? Should I get Madame Pomfrey?!"

Draco's chest hitched in with rapid breath after rapid breath, his face going very white and shaking. He hated his lungs, he hated his lungs, he hated his lungs... He chanted to himself in frustration, humiliated and embarrassed and angry and just... ugh... Why wouldn't Potter go away?

Harry didn't know what to do. He'd never been faced with a hyperventilating, shaking Malfoy before! And he was starting to get concerned. He looked around frantically for something he could use and spotted a discarded breathing mask on Draco's bedside table.

Following a hunch, he grabbed it and came back over to the blond, sitting down next to him on the sill and putting it to his face, the air forcing itself into his deprived lungs.

"Okay! Okay, calm down! Just let the mask work, okay? Take slow... deep breaths! It's alright..." he soothed shakily.

Draco's eyes had almost been fluttering shut, the strain almost too much to stay conscious for, but with the boost of oxygen, he gained clarity and raised a hand to hold the mask in place, not even reacting to the fact that his hand was covering Harry's on the mask in that moment...

He gasped in the extra help the mask offered, getting quickly dizzy with pure oxygen (as opposed to the lack of it)... His breathing started to shutter and slow, but his breaths were never deep... just even and shallow as he recovered.

Harry felt an odd sort of tingle up his spine as Draco's thin, surprisingly soft hand covered his. He was very much aware of sitting almost hip to hip with the fragile, shaking blond and felt Goosebumps raise on his arms as he felt the heat of Draco's body so close to his.

His own heart pounded and he felt his breaths shallow just a bit too, but dismissed it as a sympathetic, mimicking reaction to Draco's breathing.

But despite himself, he couldn't resist reaching up with his free hand to soothe some of the blond's hair back from his face in comfort, surprised by how soothing the action was... for himself mostly. He had touched Draco's hair once in the prison, but he hadn't noticed how the action was almost comforting.

"Good... that's good, Draco. Just calm down..." he said softly.

Draco hated people touching his hair... but somehow, he didn't have it in him to react to Harry touching it... He wheezed a few shallow breaths softly, coughed a little, then sighed and slowly pulled the mask (and Harry's hand) away to breathe by himself once more.

Harry continued to look worried, holding the mask at the ready and continuing to soothe his blond hair worriedly.

"Feeling better?" he asked softly at last.

Draco rolled his shoulders a little and tilted his head away from the touch slightly, starting to get a little uncomfortable with it now... "Mmm, yes. Sorry," he drawled, with as much pride as he could muster. His humiliation was pretty complete at this point...

Harry hummed, dropping his hand and stood up, going over to the bed to pull the covers back for the blond and conjured a glass of water, coming back over to hand it to him. "Here... should help you calm down. You should probably get some rest," he said softly, planning to speak to Madame Pomfrey about this as soon as possible, but not about to let Draco know that since he obviously wouldn't want to see a professional about this problem... whatever it was.

Draco sipped on the water, then frowned. "I'm perfectly calm. It wasn't a panic attack or anything... I'm hardly that high-strung, thank you so much."

"Ah.. so you're sick," Harry concluded.

"Am not."

Harry smiled patiently. "Yes... you are. You've been sick since I saw you in jail and you're obviously still sick now. Have you had problems with your lungs before? Are you asthmatic?"

"No..." Draco frowned. "And I am not sick... I just have - issues," he said crisply.

Harry frowned slightly. "What kind of issues?"

"Lung issues. Nothing earth-shattering..." Draco drawled quietly, and folded his arms over his chest. "And do bear in mind that the only reason I am even conversing with you is that I was severely oxygen-deprived not long ago... My brain is no-doubt still addled."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, Draco!" he exclaimed and sighed, looking at the blond seriously. "Am I really that bad?" he asked. "Do you still hate me that much, truly, that you don't even want to talk to me at all?"

"I don't know," Draco replied, at length. "But I don't care to know either..." he added. "I have enough to contend with without you..."

"I know," Harry said softly. "That's why I want to help!" he exclaimed. "It's easier to deal with stuff when you have someone to go through it with you. That's what friends do."

"I don't require friends."

"Oh no?" Harry asked, plopping down in an arm chair not far away. "You don't ever get lonely then?"

Draco watched the brunette intently, sitting with his knees raised in the sill with his arms folded for warmth. "No..." he replied. Not anymore...

Harry hummed softly. "I find that hard to believe. Unless you've just given up on people completely," he said softly, his green eyes looking a little sad at the thought.

Draco rolled his eyes slightly. "Oh, don't make me sick..." he drawled sardonically. "Fond of your melodrama, aren't you, Potter? Well, I'm not... And frankly, I don't see why you're so anxious to make my acquaintance."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Ahh... I see. You think I have some kind of ulterior motive for wanting to hang around you?"

"Oh, I'm sure you do..." Draco drawled.

"You're right. I do," Harry admitted.

"See? I told you. I have beauty and brains; that's a rare combination..."

Harry chuckled softly. "Aren't even curious as to what it is?"

Draco looked at Harry with a deadpan blink, "Oh, I'm positively tingling with anticipation," he drawled mock-seriously. "Do tell me... Just put me out of my misery before I fall to pieces with the expectation."

Harry shrugged slightly. "You amuse me."

Draco quirked an eyebrow slightly. "I... amuse... you," he repeated, as if trying to force the sentence to make sense. "Your ulterior motive is... amusement..."

Harry grinned and nodded. "Yup! I find you absolutely hilarious! I always have, but you were making fun of me and my friends, so it wasn't polite or proper to laugh. But now, I find it delightful and frankly, the way things have been lately, I need someone who can keep me amused. I know that sounds terrible! I mean, you have other qualities too, of course. I'm very glad you have a decent brain in your head and can converse coherently. And plus, I find you're somewhat of a mystery and I've always enjoyed mysteries and figuring out puzzles. But honestly, if you and I were to be friends, I'd find you one of the most amusing of all of them," he informed.

Draco quirked his other eyebrow. "Oh, well in that case... my life's goals would all be achieved... Thank Merlin I'd be counted as the funniest Potter friend... I'm so proud."

Harry looked dry. "See? I told you it wasn't flattering. I'm sorry," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I didn't mean to insult you. But if you want the honest truth, Draco... you intrigue me. You're like a never-ending present."

"Wrapped up nice and pretty?"

"Precisely! And then you start to take off the nice, pretty wrapping (not literally, of course; in a figurative sense) to show me what's underneath, only to find yet another wrapped box, so you have to unwrap that one as well and dig deeper, only to find another and then another! And it's very frustrating, but also quite amusing and interesting," Harry informed. "And besides... I know what it's like to have the world against you. I was lucky not to have to face that alone. I didn't want you to face it alone either," he added softly.

Draco was silent for a moment, staring at him with an expression that could almost have been deemed considering... He tapped his raised knee with a bony finger and calculated silently, grey eyes alive with thought.

Harry bit a lip, seeming to shift under the scrutiny. Why was he looking at him like that? He fought the urge to flush...

"Umm... so... yeah. That's my ulterior motive. Any thoughts, or do you prefer to just sit there and stare at me?"

Draco refocused and hummed softly. "Alright, Potter..." he drawled finally. "Your proposition is sound. I suppose if you really desire it, you can accompany me in a manner that would constitute friendship... if you must."

Harry's lips twitched in amusement. Once again, Draco sounded like royalty, almost like a king granting favours to his court! "Well, that's very kind of you, Draco," he said, sobering and making sure not to offend his pride by laughing at him.

Draco sensed some veiled humour nevertheless, but did no more than narrow his eyes. He smoothly stood, tugging his shirt straight and smoothing the waist of his black slacks. "Well... first order of business, I think..." he said, heading for the door and opened it, gesturing Harry to lead the way.

Harry raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure where they were supposed to be going. "We're going somewhere?" he asked blankly, exiting the room.

"No... because first order of business is: Never trust a Slytherin!" Draco supplied loftily, and shoved the door shut after him and locked it with a charm.

Harry frowned at the door... annoyed... but his annoyance quickly turned to amusement and he was soon laughing so hard he had to lean up against the door.

"Okay, Draco!" he called through the door. "This battle is yours. But one battle doesn't win a war!" he called. "Goodnight... friend!" he said pointedly, headed back to his common room, shaking his head and smiling at Draco's cleverness.

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Please R&R!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe save for the odd reference to a potion or spell that has not been detailed in canon and the odd Original Character that pops up later on in the fic.

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**Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes**

-Chapter Four-

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The moon cast mottled patches of light across the ceiling, just visible through the gap in Ron's four poster bed curtains... The scarlet-red material looked maroon in the darkness...

He hated maroon...

Ron had been trying to sleep for nearly five hours now. It was odd that despite being so exhausted at the feast, too tired to even eat, he was incapable of resting now that he was comfortable and warm in his bed...

He could hear Dean snoring... could hear Seamus occasionally whisper something in old Irish in his sleep... But sleep still escaped him.

Ron almost wished Harry would have a nightmare, just so he could jump to help and distract himself from the insanity of a sleepless night... but he didn't really want that.. The last thing he wanted was to wish a disturbed night on his best friend as well.

He lay very still with his eyes closed, holding his breath, trying to clear his mind and let sleep claim him... For a few long minutes, he heard nothing but the slow flutters of his heart, felt the vibration of it in his chest, lying so still it almost seemed to move him... With a small sound of frustration, Ron opened his eyes again, let out his breath, and frowned at the patches of moonlight on the ceiling... as if it was their fault he couldn't sleep...

He touched his forehead briefly and it came away damp... Great, he hadn't even got rid of his temperature.

Giving up, Ron carefully sat up and parted the curtains properly to get out. His toes curled when his feet felt the cold stone floor, prompting him to feel around for some socks in the darkness to hop on... He then picked up his dark-blue dressing gown which, despite being rather lightweight, was fairly warm, and pulled that on over his maroon paisley pyjamas.

He spared Harry a glance in the bed and bit a lip, wondering again about what Neville had said. What a mess... He really hadn't meant to cause so much trouble! Had he led him on or something? Was asking him to pass the milk for cereal in the morning some kind of secret gay code? Should he perhaps not have let him sleep over in his bedroom in the Burrow when he stayed?

Ron rolled his eyes at himself. Stupid questions... He was sure he hadn't done anything wrong! He just... really hadn't foreseen this... and he dreaded what might happen when it all came out. He'd already seen what had become of Ginny's friendship with Harry. She had closer friends in Australia...

What if that happened with them?

Ron carefully navigated his way down to the common room, not wanting to wake anyone up with his restlessness, and took a seat on the sofa in front of the fire, now burning quite low in the grate. Not surprising, as it was nearly morning by now... In just four or so more hours, they'd be having breakfast and going to class...

And just five hours after that, he'd be stuck in detention with Headmaster Slime...

Ron folded his arms about his lanky torso, attempting to keep all the warmth he could in because, despite the fever, he felt freezing now... He wished he had his wand to animate the fire a little... but, animated or not, it was almost hypnotic to watch and his thoughts blurred and merged as he stared into the flames, whiling away the minutes...

Hermione couldn't sleep either. She sighed heavily, turning over onto her side under the warm covers, listening to the soft ticking of her clock next to her bedside and knowing it had to be late... or early... depending on your viewpoint. She frowned and forcefully closed her eyes, trying to block out her thoughts, but they were insistent.

It hadn't been an accident that Harry and Ron couldn't find her on the train earlier. To earn the truth, she'd been avoiding them... Ron specifically. Ginny confiding in her only added to the confusion in her mind, and she now felt more confused than ever.

It had been a harsh summer, not just for the fact that she hadn't seen Harry or Ron once since it was decided they wouldn't be leaving to find the horcruxes after all, but because she'd been spending the entire time doing something she didn't really want to do; face reality.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, and even now it made her stomach writhe, but Hermione was a sensible girl at heart, and she realized she had let her emotions run away with her this past year. Her feelings for Ron had gotten out of control. Seeing him with Lavender had broken something inside her she hadn't even known she could feel, and she had to face the truth once and for all.

She and Ron would never be more than friends.

It hurt.

It hurt so much she felt like crying some days, and in fact had. Her parents had thought she was going through some kind of depression, and in a fashion, she had been. She'd closeted herself in her room for days on end, wrestling with her emotions, tearing up her old notebooks that had Ron's name written on them surrounded by little hearts. Pathetic little tokens of affection she'd hoarded like a maniac for years now.

But it was time to grow up and so she'd discarded them, packing them away and deciding she wouldn't look at them ever again.

Was Harry going through something similar, she had to wonder now. She had been tempted to go to him after Ginny confessed her suspicions. She pictured how the two of them could have a mug of butterbeer together and share the sorrows of unrequited love! But she wasn't as convinced of it as Ginny was. Harry didn't act in love with Ron. He hadn't thrown birds at him in a fit of jealousy!

She winced, groaning softly at her stupidity. Ron had done that to her, which was why she knew she had to stop this... now... before she ruined their friendship. She had spent the entire summer determined to think of Ron only in a friendship sort of way but she'd been scared to face him again, so she'd avoided them on the train.

She was still a little scared to face him. It hurt... but she was determined to get over it.

Hermione decided she was being pathetic and got up, slipping on a pink robe and heading downstairs, unable to sleep and worry about both Harry's feelings and her own. She hoped for his sake he wasn't in love with Ron.

She wouldn't wish that on him or anyone...

Hermione tensed when she saw the object of her thoughts and affections sitting on a sofa. Last year, she might have noticed how his hair was reflected in the firelight, how his blue eyes seemed intense and dark as they stared into the fire, or how he looked adorably rumpled from sleep as he snuggled in his blue robe.

That was then. This was now. She ignored his appearance and instead tried to focus on the fact he looked quite ill and feverish.

"Ron?" Hermione asked softly. "What are you doing up so late?" she asked, taking a seat not far from him in an armchair.

Ron looked around quickly, blinking. "Hermione," he murmured, then shrugged a shoulder slightly. "Oh... couldn't sleep... Typical. You?"

Hermione shook her head, smiling slightly. "Me neither," she said softly and sighed heavily. "First day back. I guess it's always a little... stressful," she said softly, and noticed the fire was getting low, so she took out her wand to make it rise a bit, not wanting it to get too cold.

Ron rubbed an arm through the blue robe. "Stressful... I guess so..." he murmured. The train ride had certainly been...

Hermione bit a lip, grabbing a throw and tossing it over him, before grabbing another one to huddle under for warmth. "Are you okay?" she asked, watching him closely.

Ron nodded slightly. "Yeah... oh, yeah... Sure, I'm fine..." he murmured as convincingly as possible. "Just a bit run-down," he murmured, rubbing his chest briefly for an ache.

Hermione frowned slightly. "Mmm..." she said doubtfully. "Well... any particular reason you can't sleep then if it's not because you're feeling bad?" she asked curiously.

Ron frowned a bit. "What's this - the Spanish Inquisition?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "No, Ron... it's not. You don't have to tell me. I was just concerned is all because you need your sleep. And since I can't sleep, I figured conversation might help to pass the time."

"Well, why can't you sleep?" Ron retorted.

Hermione hesitated. "Umm..." she trailed awkwardly. "I was... umm..." she fumbled for an excuse, "-worried about Harry!" she finally settled.

Ron tensed automatically, "Why? What's wrong?"

Hermione blinked. "Nothing! I - nothing. It's... never mind," she said softly, shaking her head. "It's not important," she said softly, realizing it had been a lame excuse and she shouldn't have brought it up.

But Ron looked really concerned now. "No... what? Has he said something to you? Do you think something bad's going to happen? Is he sick? Do you think a new teacher will try and murder him again?!" he asked, suggestions getting wilder.

"Ron! Ron, calm down!!" Hermione exclaimed in alarm. "No! No, he's not sick that I know of, nothing bad is going to happen, I don't think, and – the professor taking on Defence Against the Dark Arts this year is Professor McGonagall. She's not going to kill anyone! Just relax!"

Ron's narrow shoulders untensed slightly, a hand to his chest in a cross between relief and frustration. "Well, don't sound so bloody cryptic and ominous then," he said, wincingly.

"Sorry..." she said softly, watching him rub his chest worriedly with a frown. "I just - umm... I meant in regards to Draco. I heard Harry saved him from some other Slytherins earlier today," she said softly, which wasn't a complete lie; she was worried about that!

"Ugh... he's going to regret it, I just know he is..." Ron said grimly, shaking his head. "I really don't want Malfoy to get his hooks into him..."

Hermione nodded. "I agree," she said softly. "But what can we do, Ron? Harry's so trusting and - and he really wants to see the good in people! I don't know if anything we say can convince him," she said softly and bit a lip. "Well... maybe you could."

"Me? I've already tried... I've got no special sway over him," Ron scoffed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" she asked, and bit a lip. "That's... not what I hear."

Ron hesitated, feeling his heart start to beat faster against his hand. "Ummm... no?" he murmured. For goodness sake - what the fuck kind of 'secret' was this? The kind everyone knew obviously!

Hermione rolled her eyes, seeing his hesitancy. "It's... nothing, Ron. Just a silly rumour that's going around. I'm sure you're right," she said, waving a hand dismissively.

"What - what rumour?"

Hermione sighed heavily. "Okay... Ginny told Neville... who apparently can't keep his mouth shut! He's told about three other people that I know of. Ginny, however, told me and I haven't told anyone except you so you can't tell anyone, Ron! Because it's just speculation and unfounded speculation at that!"

Ron sighed. "That Harry's in love with me?"

Hermione gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, holy beans! You've heard it too?! You think it's true?! Oh poor Harry!" she exclaimed in horror. Time to break out the butterbeer.

Ron winced. "It might be... Ginny seemed pretty convinced from what I can tell."

Hermione sighed heavily and shook her head. "I just... I can't see it! He doesn't act like he's in love with you. Just... really close in a friendship way! I suppose it's possible he's good at hiding it," she mused.

Ron looked almost hopeful. "So you think he might not be? Really? Oh, that would be great... I mean, not that I wasn't flattered and all..."

Hermione winced softly. "I don't know, Ron. It's possible he is, but that's what I'm saying; there's no evidence! And we're assuming he is gay to begin with."

"Well, he likes listening to girl talk..." Ron supplied. "That has to be an indication and... now that I think about it, he seems to understand a lot more about clothes than I do..."

Hermione smiled slightly. "I guess it would explain why he doesn't mind going shopping with me," she said softly. But she paused and frowned. "Wait! You're saying straight guys don't like listening to girls talk?"

"Er... no! Of course not. We love it... it's so - exciting... Action-packed..."

Hermione frowned and glared. "Don't lie to me, Ron! You hate it! So what do you want us to do? Just take our clothes off and give all of you a lap dance? I suppose that's a better way for us to pass the time! I'm so sorry that we bore you to tears! Actually, maybe you are the one who's gay, Ron! And Harry is straight because he's interested in girls. Something other than a blond with a big massive chest, I mean!" she said indignantly.

"I'm not gay," Ron retorted indignantly. "And yeah, now that you mention it... a little less talk and a little more stripping would probably do wonders for your popularity."

Hermione went pink. "Ugh! That is just so typical of you!!" she snapped, and stood up, preparing to leave, but paused at the door and sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she turned back and folded her arms. "I'm sorry," she said softly, biting a lip. "That always seems to happen, doesn't it?" she asked softly, almost wryly.

Ron stood up, and put his hands in the pockets of his open, baggy robe as he ambled over to meet her halfway, looking wryly. "Yeah... sort of," he admitted.

Please don't use birds again, please don't use birds again...

He hesitated, then bit a lip. He might regret just blurting it out like this but... "Hermione... why me?" he asked. "I mean... why would you like me of all people?"

Hermione seemed to pale slightly, her mouth falling open. "What?" she asked softly, stunned by his blunt question.

Ron raised his eyebrows slightly, and managed to look almost indignant. "What... so you thought I'd just never catch on? Come on, Hermione... you nearly maimed me for life with killer birds! And we couldn't exchange a civil word for as long as I went out with Lavender... I'm not smart, but I'm not dumb."

Hermione bit a lip, folding her arms and feeling her heart pound slightly. After a long time, she sighed heavily and leaned up against the wall, managing a small, lop-sided smile.

"I don't suppose you'd believe it was temporary insanity?" she asked softly and shook her head. "Ron... I owe you an apology," she said seriously. "I shouldn't have acted like that... I-" she cut off, shaking her head. "I don't have much experience with being... jealous. But... you don't have to worry, okay? Because... I'm over it."

Ron walked a little closer, and leant on the back of an armchair, facing her. "Over it? In other words... over me?" he murmured, finding it hard to judge his feelings on that (probably because he was running such a high temperature). He felt something almost like relief... but there was something else... a hollow feeling...

Hermione nodded firmly, something inside her calling her a liar, but she ignored it. It would be true! She would make it true...

"Yes," she said seriously, her eyes never leaving his. "It was... just a silly crush anyway, Ron! I - I thought it was deeper than it was," she dismissed and sighed. "It's none of my business who you go out with and... if you decide to date someone else... I'll be happy for you," she assured softly, forcing herself not to choke on her own words.

But she had pride. She had their friendship. It would be enough until she could find someone else to make her forget.

"Oh," said Ron softly, and nodded.

He had his pride, he'd die before he acknowledged an odd sense of loss over this revelation... "Well, good. I'm happy for you - being over it and all. And thank you, but... not really thinking about girls much at the moment."

"Ron... your friendship is very important to me. I know we don't always get along..." she said, wincing. "And I'm sure that's largely my fault. I'm too bossy and - and I know I come off as arrogant and lecturing sometimes. But really, it's only because I care and I want to help! So... I hope this hasn't affected our friendship," she said softly.

Ron shook his head. "'Course not... And hey, don't take all the credit... I can be a pain in the arse too," he said dryly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "True..." she admitted softly and sighed. "So... what do we do about Harry then?"

"I've no idea... guess I'll... I'll have to have a word with him," Ron murmured, rubbing an arm through his sleeve again, actually shaking a little where he stood. "Jeez, it's so cold in here," he complained, despite the fire.

Hermione frowned and came over to place a hand to his forehead and gasped. "Ron, you're burning up!"

"Burning up what?" Ron asked, looking confused.

"With a fever, stupid!" Hermione snapped and grabbed his hand. "Come here! Now! You should be laying down! Have you taken any potions for fever?" she asked, guiding him to the sofa and trying to get him to lay down.

"Yeah... two... I'm fine," Ron argued, sitting but fighting her urgent attempts to make him lay flat.

"Two?! They should have helped! Ron, you're not fine!" Hermione exclaimed worriedly. "After two potions it should be better! I'll get you a stronger one."

"No!" Ron said, surprisingly vehement... He swallowed and slowly lay down, feeling a bit dizzy, keeping head propped on the cushioned arm of the sofa... His clammy, thin hand found hers. "Stay..."

Hermione hesitated, the simple request tugging at a part of her she was trying desperately to forget and she nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa and holding his hand back.

"Okay..." she said softly. "I'll stay," she assured softly and sighed, shaking her head as she took out her wand with a free hand and conjured a bowl of cool water and a cloth, wetting it and putting it to his forehead to try and cool him down. "But on the condition that you rest."

Ron nodded slightly, having no intention or moving while the room was spinning... That would just be stupid...

"Hermione...?"

"Yes?" she asked softly, wiping the sweat from his forehead worriedly.

"What if I'm really ill...? What if... that poison made me... really ill?"

Hermione hesitated, swallowing thickly and nodded shakily. "I - had considered that," she said softly and sighed, gripping his hand a little tighter and looking at him seriously. "If it did, Ron... then we'll find a way to deal with it, okay?"

"What if... I'm dying?" Ron murmured very quietly, with a weak attempt at a smile.

Hermione tensed. The word brought back visions of him on that cot in the infirmary, struggling for his life as the last vestiges of poison gnawed at his body. It bought back visions of herself, pacing outside the infirmary door going silently mad, praying, bargaining and lost in a terrifying nightmare.

"You're not," Hermione said softly with conviction. "You're not dying, Ron!" she said firmly. "They said you were fine when you left the infirmary. Even Snape checked you over and he was very, very thorough and - and you're alright!" she said firmly, her voice rising at the end, almost in a slight panic or denial.

Ron swallowed slightly, closing his eyes for a moment... "Then why don't I feel alright?"

Hermione's shoulders relaxed slightly, forcing herself calm. "Because you're sick. Because... maybe there is something wrong but... surely it's not life-threatening! I'm sure it isn't."

"What do you know about dreams?"

"Dreams?" Hermione asked blankly.

Ron opened his eyes again. "Over the summer I've had... weird dreams..."

Hermione frowned slightly. "What kind of dreams?" she asked, re-wetting the cloth and putting it to his forehead again to cool him down, trailing it down to the nape of his warm neck.

Ron coughed softly, throat sore, and winced. "Images... big house... a cup. Masks, I saw... then fire... And I could - see blood. I woke up disorientated and... I couldn't work out what it meant..."

Hermione bit a lip. "Well... sometimes people have prophetic dreams. But it could just be a dream riddled with symbology or an inner expression of your psyche! I can look it up for you if you like," she offered.

"No... s'okay..." Ron murmured. He closed his eyes and continued talking, but not about dreams... not about anything in particular.

He talked about the summer... about his parents, a bit about Ginny's avoidance... Fred and George getting in trouble just to try and keep things normal. He rambled, almost deliriously...

Hermione listened, soothing his fever, listening to him talk and silently treasuring the quiet moment and the opportunity to take care of him and spend time with him without fighting.

Eventually though, he talked himself to sleep, the fever and his own exhaustion combining to knock him unconscious.

But Hermione still didn't leave, soothing his hair as she watched him sleeping, her heart twisting oddly inside her chest and eventually she sighed and stood up, putting the throw over him warmly and hesitated, before bending to kiss his forehead tenderly and drew back to head upstairs and get dressed, knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep now and deciding that starting today, she would do her best to avoid moments like those. Any more of them, and she wouldn't be able to recover, and that would be very, very bad...

She was dressed in her uniform, her hair freshly washed and feeling better almost an hour later, more composed and determined to move on with her life. She paused, seeing Ron was still sleeping, and decided it was best not to disturb him as she grabbed her books and started organizing her backpack in preparation for the first day of class.

Ron's brows drew together slightly... and his hands clenched and fisted over his midsection on top of the throw... His breathing got faster and his head shifted in twitchy disturbed sleep...

He saw a white uniform and a face that should have been kindly look twisted and evil... A Death Eater mask flickered across it briefly... and then he saw Harry and Hermione, both mere glimpses, looking concerned but being turned away. A splash of red... Soft laughter. A candle bracket on the wall that was pulled and revealed a gap in the wall... then darkness... nothing but darkness... until there were screams.

"Ron? RON!!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing to him in worry, seeing he was breathing faster and twitching. She put a hand to his forehead, finding he was burning up all the more and started to worry. "Ron! Wake up!"

Ron jerked awake with a scream, reaching up and grasping the first thing his hand came into contact with, which in this case was Hermione's shoulder. He was breathing fast and looked around in disorientation, red hair plastered to his forehead...

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, reaching down to cup his face in alarm. "Shhh! Calm down! Calm down, Ron! It's okay! I'm here, alright? I'm right here! You're safe! Shh... just calm down!" she soothed anxiously.

"Hermione..." Ron swallowed, looking dazed and strained, but feeling relief upon waking... A dream, just a dream... "Had a - a horrible dream, I..." he trailed, swallowing, and shook his head.

"I need to get up," he said blearily, pushing himself to a shaky stand... His legs collapsed under him not five seconds later, and he found himself on the floor, dizzy... Oooh, stars.

"Ron!" Hermione yelled, bending down next to him and looking pained. "Oh Merlin... this is bad! Stay right here, okay? I need to get Harry!" she exclaimed and helped him lean up against the sofa on the floor, before making her way to the boy's dorm and knocking on the door.

"Harry! Harry, wake up!!!" Hermione shouted, hearing a lot of groans on the other side of the door as her knocking inevitably woke up other Gryffindor boys. "Oh shut up, the lot of you!! Just get Harry!" she snapped impatiently.

Harry appeared at the door, casting apologetic glances to the others, fully dressed in his (uniform which he had pulled on very quickly), his hair sticking out at all angles and frowning as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses tiredly.

"Hermione? What's the matter?" he asked with a yawn.

"It's Ron! He's burning up with fever and he can't walk!" Hermione exclaimed and grabbed him by his sleeve, dragging him down to the common room. "We have to get him to the infirmary and I need you to help me!"

Harry sobered and was wide awake quickly. "What?! Fever?!" he demanded, tensing automatically and rushed to his friend's side, looking horrified as he saw how pale and sweaty Ron was from his sickness.

"Shit..." he swore and bent down to gently reach for his friend and pulled him to a stand, supporting his weight with a strong arm. "Are you okay?! Come on! Let's get you to the infirmary, alright?"

Ron dug his heels in quickly, almost managing to lose more colour. He saw the figure again in the uniform... Nurse's uniform! "No! Not the infirmary! No, I'll... I'll stay here... Here's good..."

Harry shook his head as both he and Hermione flanked Ron and started to guide him towards the door despite his resistance.

"Ron, now stop it! It's gone too far, okay? You have to go the infirmary now!" he said firmly but gently, knowing his friend was resistant to doctors of any kind.

"No! Really. You can't take me in there! She'll drug me! Blood... lots of blood..." Ron insisted frantically. "Hermione!" he pleaded. "Don't do this... I'll stay on the sofa! Good sofa... Nice sofa!"

Hermione looked pained and soothed his hair. "Ron, you're delirious, okay? The fever is very bad right now and - and yes, she may give you a drug to help you feel better!" she said, hating the pleading look in his eyes as they guided Ron to the infirmary slowly.

"No! NO! Listen... I'm not deleting! I'm perfectly sensible! I know what I'm saying and I'm saying don't take me there!"

"Ron, it's just the infirmary!" Harry exclaimed. "No one's going to hurt you, okay?" he said patiently. "I know you don't like hospitals and doctors, but it's different this time," he assured softly, dragging him into the infirmary and seeing the woman in the nurse's uniform.

"Madam Pomfrey! Quick! It's Ron. He's got a high fever and he's almost delirious!"

Madam Pomfrey turned and faced the children, but there was an odd, almost calculating look in her eyes, before she smiled thinly and shook her head, tutting. "Oh dear! Well, that's very bad news, isn't it? Lay him there on the bed and I'll come over and have a look." she instructed.

Hermione nodded. "Come on, Ron. Let's lay down, okay?" she said soothingly, guiding him to the bed.

"NO!" Ron shouted, looking horror-stricken, able to tell (hazy or not) that he'd seen THAT face in his dream... but with the mask and a different sort of expression. He managed to turn in Harry's grasp and tried to stagger away, making a last bid for freedom.

The woman almost smiled for a moment, but restrained it. "Hold him down if you must! He's obviously very sick..."

Harry looked pained, grasping his friend and pulling him over to the bed, stronger than Ron at the moment and soothed his hair.

"Shhh! Ron, calm down, okay? Calm down! Everything's fine!" he soothed.

"No! Harry, please!" Ron exclaimed, desperately. "Listen to me, for Merlin's sake! She's not Madam Pomfrey!" he accused, and then grimaced and lay back abruptly, hissing as his chest hurt for the first time in years. Probably for the first time since he'd been chased through the forest by huge, terrifying spiders... "Ow, shit." Not now!

The woman came over with a needle and gave him the injection.

"Delusions aren't uncommon with high fevers," she explained calmly. "This should calm him down and help him sleep," she assured.

Harry swallowed thickly, looking hesitantly at the woman, getting a bad feeling as he gripped his friend's hand. "Are... are you sure he'll be okay?" he asked, soothing Ron's hair with his free hand. "It's... an odd delusion to have..."

The woman smiled thinly, watching as the drug started to take affect. "Oh yes... we'll take good care of him..." she said softly, almost cryptically.

Ron's eyelids started to flutter, but the blue eyes beyond them were still alarmed despite the drug... "Ha-rry," he whispered a last time, then his eyes closed in unconsciousness.

"He'll be fine. Leave him here for a couple of hours and he'll be good as new," Madam Pomfrey advised.

Harry hesitated. "I... would like to stay with him actually, if that's okay."

Madam Pomfrey frowned slightly. "He needs his rest, Mr. Potter. You can see him when he wakes up!" she exclaimed and her features seemed to soften for a moment in compassion. "I know he's your friend and you're worried. It's natural. But I promise he'll be fine. He's just sick right now."

Hermione bit a lip and reached for Harry's hand, squeezing gently. "Come on, Harry. Let's go get some breakfast, okay? We can come back and check on him in a couple of hours," she suggested softly.

Faced with the influence of both females, Harry felt like he had no choice and glanced down at his friend, who was still gripping his hand, and gently placed it over his chest and soothed his sweat-soaked hair.

"I'll be right back..." he promised Ron softly in whisper, before nodding and walking with Hermione out of the infirmary.

The moment the door closed behind them, the features of Madam Pomfrey changed and twisted evilly as she stared down at Ron Weasley.

"Well, well, well..." she drawled softly. "Isn't this convenient? You saved me the trouble of having to arrange an accident to get you in here," she commented to the unconscious figure and reached for a candle bracket on the wall not far from Ron's bed, pulling it down to reveal a gap in the wall, just large enough for a person to slip through.

The woman reached for the boy, lifting him in her arms like a sack of flour... and disappeared without a trace.

* * *

God, classes were boring...

It was hard to go from the thick of war (complete with death, blood and bastards) back to Potions.

That wasn't to say that Draco preferred to be on raids. Far from it. They were unpleasant, awkward things... and any clothes you wore were not fit to be worn ever again afterwards...

But it was disillusioning to walk back into the old dungeon of simmering cauldrons and be expected to follow instructions from a book and placidly concoct. It was also nearly impossible for him to do, as, thanks to over-sleeping, he'd missed the chance to have breakfast. So he'd been unable to eat his dinner... now he's missed breakfast... He was no better off than in the cell!

Still... considering some of the things he was cutting up finely to add to the mixture, perhaps not eating had been a good idea. Many other students were looking green...

Crabbe and Goyle were sitting behind his bench, working as partners (primarily because they then had at least two brain cells to rub against each other, and possibly spark some intelligence - a little). They were lost without a guide... bumbling and trying to eat the potions ingredients. Apparently the beetles looked like sweets...

It was almost liberating to be free of them... He didn't have to baby-sit for once... He'd have preferred babies, actually; they at least had some natural common sense born of instinct. Crabbe and Goyle didn't even have that... He heard them arguing over what to put in the cauldron next; the 'blue thing' or the 'wobbly green stuff'.

Draco, correctly interpreting what these ingredients actually were, calmly used his wand to move his own cauldron along a little on the bench... immediately after which, Crabbe and Goyle's potion blew up, splattering 'hot, slimy, orange stuff' in all directions, including where his cauldron had been before he moved.

"Eurgh! Ow! Ouch ouch ouch! Hot, Goyle, it's hot! You idiot! I said the blue stuff!"

"No! You said the green stuff!"

Draco placidly stirred his potion, and took it off the heat when it was nearly ready. It was just too easy... too banal... Potions had never been much of a challenge, but now there was something almost... oh, he didn't know... It just seemed so - heartless - to go from war to the classroom.

Not that he ought to care if anything seemed heartless or not...

He was just about to raise his hand to have Snape check his potion, when the class got distinctly less boring... Snape opened a potions cupboard of primarily medicinal potions... and out fell a bound, gagged, unconscious Madam Pomfrey.

Draco sincerely hoped she wasn't to be diced into their next potions project.

No one was more shocked than Severus at the sight of the school nurse falling out of the cupboard and, for a moment, he paled in shock and his mouth fell open.

"Merlin's beard! What the devil is going on?!" Severus demanded, bending to kneel next to the woman. "Someone grab me some smelling salts!" he snapped, undoing her binds quickly and taking out the gag. "Who did this?! If any of you think this is funny and decided to play some kind of prank, I promise you'll regret it!" he barked.

Harry, who shared this class with the Slytherins, paled starkly as well as he saw the woman fall out of the cabinet. "But - but that can't be! She's in the infirmary! I just saw her less than an hour ago!" he protested.

Severus frowned at the brunette. "What the hell are you babbling about, Potter? How could she be in the infirmary when she's obviously here?!"

Harry abruptly lost all his colour, wavering on his feet. "Oh my god... what have I done?" he whispered shakily and left the classroom at a run.

"POTTER! Where the hell are you going?!" Severus demanded, still confused. "Where are those bloody smelling salts?!"

Draco raised a hand. "Professor," he drawled insolently. "Will this be on the test?"

"Quiet, Draco!" Severus snapped, standing up. "You two!" he pointed to two reasonably intelligent Gryffindors in the front row. "Stay with Pomfrey and see if you can get her to come around. Draco, come with me! The rest of you, class is dismissed!"

Draco frowned mutinously, but picked up his satchel and languidly made his way to the front of the class. That's what smart-mouthing got you... No one appreciated his wit. Barbarians...

"Where are we going?" he drawled.

"To the infirmary, to find out what the devil Potter was on about!" Severus said tensely. "Obviously, someone knocked her out and tied her up, and if Potter did see Pomfrey in the Infirmary, that means there's an impostor. The odds that this is some ridiculous prank go down from there. Polyjuice is a very hard potion to make! And frankly, if there's a Death Eater in the school as I'm beginning to suspect, I want you where I can see you," he said tensely as they made their way down the hall.

"You're not suggesting I have anything to do with it?" Draco exclaimed indignantly. "I've been brewing potions like a good guardian's boy," he said mockingly.

"Of course I don't think you have anything to do with it!" Severus snapped. "But someone went to a lot of trouble and I can't dismiss the possibility that Lucius or one of the other Death Eaters might want to do you harm! So until this situation is resolved, I'm not letting you out of my sight!" he said. " And besides, Potter seems to have formed an odd attachment to you. If he gets hysterical or acts the idiot as he's prone to do, perhaps you can reason with him," he said dryly.

"Attachment?! Wash your mouth out!" Draco frowned. "And if he gets hysterical, I suggest the treatment Madam Pomfrey was dealt."

Severus smiled thinly, but his smile soon faded as he entered... and saw Potter was already hysterical.

Harry was searching the infirmary frantically, opening doors, lifting mattresses and frankly looking as though he might lose his mind any moment.

"Gone! HE'S GONE!!" Harry exclaimed, seeing Snape and Draco enter. "You have to do something! She - she took him! Oh god - this is all my fault! I should have listened! He told me! He told me and I was too stupid to pay any attention to it!!" he exclaimed, his breaths hitching as his eyes filled with tears. "We have to find him! WE HAVE TO FIND RON!!!!"

Draco frowned slightly, shifting a little for the obvious burst of emotion. "Well, what are you looking at us for? He's tall with a beacon of red hair! He can't be that hard to locate! Get on with it and find him... He's probably just in the toilets. Let's face it, he's hardly the type of criminal mastermind the Dark Lord would be after, is he?"

Severus tensed, looking at Harry intently. "You're positive she took him, Potter?" he demanded. "He couldn't have gotten up and left?"

"No!!" Harry shouted. "But - but he's right! Why would they kidnap Ron?! He's no one!"

Severus scoffed. "That shows how ignorant you are, Potter. Ronald Weasley is part of a blood-traitor family and best friend to Harry Potter himself! And as if that wasn't enough he's..." he trailed, biting the inside of his cheek. "Well... let's just say he has some untapped potential which the Dark Lord might consider useful."

Harry was shaking and abruptly came forward and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt. "YOU DID THIS, DIDN'T YOU?!" he demanded. "You know where they took him! Hell, you could have planned the entire thing!!!"

"Control yourself!!" Severus barked, removing the boy's hands and shoving him back gently but firmly. "Stop acting like an hysterical idiot! You'll not help your precious Weasley by losing what small sensibility you do possess. Now... I'm going to contact the Ministry and get a team of aurors here to go through this room with a fine-toothed comb, and then I'm going to question Madam Pomfrey. I suggest you return to your classes."

Harry looked incredulous. "Classes? You expect me to go to class when my best friend has been kidnapped?!!!"

Severus looked at the boy tensely. "What else can you do, Potter? The Dark Lord has multiple hideouts and there are at least a hundred different places Weasley could be held at. Further more, even if you were to discover his location, getting in and out would be damn near impossible. It's a suicide mission to be sure! And as much as I hate to admit it, your life is important to everyone and it can't be risked by undertaking heroic but foolish quests," he said darkly. "I will do what I can to get your friend back... from the inside. But you'll have to be patient."

"Patient?!" Harry spat in disgust. "While I'm being patient, Ron is being tortured to within an inch of his life!"

"Yes," Severus said darkly. "Yes, he is, and I'm sorry for it. But he isn't the first and he won't be the last. A great many more people will be tortured and killed if you're captured or killed, Potter."

Harry paled starkly, frankly unnerved by the man's blunt agreement, his cold logic and acceptance angering him further, but he could do nothing but nod tensely, knowing there was no point in arguing with him.

Severus nodded curtly. "Good. Draco, see to it that Potter reaches his next class safely. There might be another Death Eater around and until then I don't want either of you going anywhere alone. Most of your classes are together, so you'll accompany each other to each one until I say otherwise."

Draco gave Severus a nonplussed 'Sure, that's happening' look, and pointedly said nothing.

Harry looked strained, unable to believe he was actually being expected to go to classes! It was ridiculous!! And despite the reasonable part of him that told him he should just do as the man says, his heart wouldn't let him.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Potter, seeing the mutinous expression in both the boys' eyes, neither satisfied with the arrangement for different reasons, but he knew it was the wisest course of action. Potter was a target, and frankly so was Draco, though he was certain the blond had no idea he was or why he would be. But Severus had no intention of getting into any of that now.

"I'm serious!" he said to both of them when they both looked at him in silence. "Draco, you stick with him! If he disappears, you'll be cleaning the latrines for the next month! And the same goes for you, Potter!" he said firmly and left abruptly to go and question Madam Pomfrey.

Harry shook with barely concealed rage and as soon as the man was gone, he grabbed his cloak and headed for the door at a quick pace, frankly not caring if Draco was following or not. This had gone beyond orders from a Headmaster...

This was about Ron.

Draco tensed and startled as he quickly followed. "What are you doing?" he hissed, grasping the brunette's shoulder and turning him around. "Haven't you got us into enough trouble? The last thing I wanted was to be stuck baby-sitting you! But it looks like I haven't much choice!"

Harry shook tensely and pulled his shoulder out of his grasp. "Go back to your classes, Malfoy! This isn't your fight," he said softly. "I'm not going to study for my potions exam while my best friend is being beaten with whips, chains and Merlin knows what else! I'm going after him. Tell Snape I knocked you out and you couldn't stop me. Do what you have to do! But stay out of my way!"

Draco glared and abruptly shoved Harry up against the closest wall with a surprising show of strength considering his fragile physical condition. "DON'T fuck with me, Potter! I have been told to watch you and that is what I will damn well do!" he spat. "As for what's happening to your friend, if the worst you can imagine is a whipping, you are lucky in your ignorance!" he added, somewhat disdainfully.

"WHICH IS WHY I CAN'T LEAVE HIM THERE!!" Harry exclaimed, looking like he might break at any time, his eyes filling with tears. "You don't understand! You don't know what it's like to love someone! When they hurt, YOU hurt and he's in this position because of ME, damn it!! I have to go and get him!!! I won't let him die!!"

Draco slapped Harry's cheek lightly. It wasn't the most sympathetic approach, obviously... but still... it seemed to clear his eyes. Draco wasn't sure he could stand to see his enemy cry... not unless he'd been the one to make him cry anyway.

"Shut up!!" he shouted. "I can't stand here listening to your whimpering! Yes, alright? It's your fault... Feel better? I'm sure that no one would be getting kidnapped, tortured or killed in this WAR if not for YOU! In fact, hey, I bet death wouldn't even exist if not for you! Shame on you, Potter, for holding back all civilisation!" he said with ample sarcasm.

"Has it escaped your notice that Weasley is - however generally insignificant - the son of a prominent good pureblood family? And if he really has some potential the Dark Lord would want to take advantage of - the fact that he is your best friend and so beloved by you - is just a bonus!" he snapped. "And – incidentally - maybe I don't 'love' anyone! But if loving someone makes me act anything remotely like YOU are, then I thank my lucky stars!"

Harry seemed to sober at the shouting, swallowing thickly as he listened to the tirade, which made some kind of logical sense in his mind despite himself, and the slap brought him out of his panic, forced him to think (which he understood was precisely what Draco was trying to do). An irony considering Hermione usually tried... and failed.

"It's not all bad..." Harry said softly at last. "There are advantages to loving people. I guess it just... makes you a little crazy sometimes..." he said softly and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "But Ron knew," he said softly. "Somehow... he knew she wasn't who she said she was! My instincts told me to believe him but... the logic in my head told me otherwise," he opened his eyes and looked sadly wry.

"That's what happens when I think too much and ignore what my gut tells me. He may have been targeted, but he wouldn't be captured right now if I hadn't left him alone with her. And even if it wasn't my fault, Draco... I can't leave him there. I won't stand by and wait for Snape to pull whatever strings he has! Ron could be dead by then," he said seriously.

Draco shrugged bony shoulders. "He could be dead already... Same argument applies," he drawled softly, stepping back slightly but still looking tense and wary, as if waiting for him to try and bolt for it. Draco almost relished the chance to knock him out...

"No..." Harry said softly. "No, if - if he has something Voldemort wants, he won't kill him," he said softly, his eyes darkening with knowledge. "I know how he works. He'll torture... he'll have fun with him first. And if Ron proves useful, he'll keep him alive. If not, he'll draw out the pain as long as possible. He might send me something... a message... just to taunt me," he said softly and shook his head. "Either way, we have to find him," he said softly and looked at Draco seriously. "Where would they take him?"

Draco rolled his eyes tensely. "How the fuck should I know? And even if I did... I'm not helping you! You are staying right here..."

Harry's green eyes glittered. "No... I'm not," he said softly. "And don't give me this bullshit!" he exclaimed. "Your father was one of the most prominent Death Eaters! You were raised to become one yourself! Hell, when they captured you, you were already in with them! You would know where they hold prisoners, Draco. You have to know! And even if you don't, you have a good idea. You can make a guess! Now... tell me where Ron is!"

"He is in a very well-guarded stronghold that a hundred wizards couldn't successfully break into, let alone YOU!" Draco retorted. "That is all you need to know!"

"Fine!" Harry snapped. "Just tell me where it is, and I'll be on my way!"

"Do you have selective hearing, Potter?! You are not going anywhere because I have been directed to keep you here!"

"I don't give a FUCK what you were directed to do!" Harry snapped. "You either tell me where it is, or you'll show me! Or I'll just walk out and find it myself! Either way, I'm going!"

"No, you aren't!" Draco argued. "You won't get him back like this, Potter!"

"Oh no?!! Just watch me!!" Harry snapped, moving to get by him and head for the door.

Draco frowned, and reached out once more (this was getting tiresome) to pull him back and stop him.

Harry moved so fast it was almost impossible to see what he was doing as he grasped the wrist that held him, twisted it expertly and with considerable strength and agility, pinned Draco to the wall, his body almost chest to chest with Draco's, face inches away and his dark eyes glittered a dangerous green, his breathing a little ragged.

"I AM going, and no one... not Snape... not Voldemort... not YOU... no one... is going to stop me..." he hissed softly, his skin tingling with the contact and a barely repressed power that seemed to make the air itself hum with tension.

Draco tensed considerably...

Okay... so a little more capable than he appeared... Not intimidating...

His grey eyes stared into green levelly, and paused for a moment... before raising a hand, almost placatingly. "Alright... fine..." he murmured calmly. "Calm down, Potter. You can have it your way..."

The tension in Harry's body released slowly and he very carefully pulled back, releasing Draco from the wall, still standing relatively close, dismissing the pounding of his own heart as just tension and stress.

"Then tell me what I need to know." Harry said softly.

Draco nodded tensely, waving a hand, "Yes, yes... just - give me a moment..." he murmured, bending forward slightly to grip his knees, breaths raspy.

Harry softened immediately. "Oh no... are you okay? I - I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked worriedly, coming forward to place a hand on his shoulder.

Draco said something too quietly for Harry to hear...

"What was that?" Harry asked, bending down.

Draco stood up straight abruptly, picked up the heavy vase sitting on the nearest bedside table - and dropped it on Harry's head...

He caught his dead weight as he crumpled... but that was too heavy... so he dropped him, looking down dispassionately. "I said 'Sleep well'."

With the aid of a feather-light charm, Draco managed to drag Harry over to the closest bed, and got him semi-comfortable lying on it. He justified that Harry had brought this on himself... And letting him leave would have been a very bad idea; he'd only get himself killed and that would be grossly counter-productive..

Draco sighed wearily as he tugged his uniform shirt straighter and sat down on the edge of the bed. It looked like classes were out of the question then... and if Harry couldn't attend them, he certainly couldn't risk leaving and giving Harry the chance to wake up and sneak away before he got back.

He wasn't exactly heart-broken. As he'd thought earlier, classes after life-experience seemed shallow...

Speaking of shallow... Draco leant forward and turned Harry's face so he could get a look at the back of his head, checking the cut that was bleeding there. Luckily that was shallow too... but it was bleeding a fair bit, making his hair sticky and giving the pillow a nice stain.

"Mmm, lovely... Couldn't just be knocked out tidily, could you, Potter? You're being awkward even when you're unconscious," he muttered in drawl to himself as he conjured some water and a couple of cloths.

The cut was fairly easy to treat... and Draco had years of practice behind him. He expertly wiped away the blood, then went to a cupboard to find an anti-bacterial salve, which he applied to the cut through the tangle of soft, black hair carefully. The real danger was, after all, not so much the cut or the loss of blood as a possible infection...

"What are you doing?!!" Hermione snapped from the doorway, approaching the unconscious brunette and the blond tending to him with her wand drawn, like a she-tiger ready to defend her cub against predators. "Get away from him!!" she exclaimed, and paled when she saw the wound on Harry's head. "What have you done to him?! What's going on?!" she demanded, aiming her wand at him threateningly, her hand shaking tensely.

In truth, she was on the edge. News of Madam Pomfrey's discovery in the cupboard had spread quickly and Hermione had concluded the same thing Harry had upon hearing it. The fact that the infirmary was empty besides Harry had her almost ready to burst into tears, but the sight of Malfoy hovering over her bleeding friend took precedence.

"Did you have something to do with this?" she demanded in a hiss. "Where's Ron?!"

Draco rolled his eyes slightly and waved a hand over his shoulder at Hermione as though to shoo a fly. "Bugger off, Granger, you're making the place look untidy," he said loftily.

"You will answer me or I will turn you into a toad! No doubt more fitting to your personality!" she snapped.

Draco sat back and turned a little on the edge of the bed to face her, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "Your carrot-coloured weasel is no-doubt in deep discussion with the Dark Lord... As for Potter, I knocked him out with a vase..." he stated composedly. "-For his own good," he assured offhandedly, after a pause.

Hermione lowered her wand numbly, losing colour visibly at this announcement. "Ron? He's... he's-" she cut off, and put a hand to her chest, sitting down numbly in the chair next to the bed as her legs left her and her heart pounded in shock and dismay.

She looked almost catatonic for a moment...

Draco could see that between the two of them, he was in for really lively conversation.

Initially, he turned back to tending Harry's head, finishing with the salve, then smoothing the black hair straight again before tilting his head back to a more comfortable position on the pillow... When this was achieved, however, and Hermione had still done nothing, he started to shift.

Perhaps he could get her a glass of water. That was supposed to be good for shock... though Draco didn't see why, frankly. It was just water... Brandy, he could understand. But water? That was for quenching thirst, not coping with shock!

In any case, he was seriously considering getting her some.

He cleared his throat and brushed a few mussed strands of platinum-blond hair behind an ear out of his pale, thin face. "There was a Death Eater impersonating Madam Pomfrey..." he elaborated carefully. "It appears she took Weasley some hours ago..."

Hermione had been watching Draco as he silently tended Harry, some vague part of her mind registering shock at his care for him. She hadn't thought that soothing his hair back and placing his head on the pillow was part of the job of nurse! It seemed too gentle... too compassionate... for Draco. She didn't trust it for a second...

But for the longest time, she hadn't reacted, silently sitting there and trying to come to terms with this. Unlike many, she was burdened with the gift of knowledge, having studied known Death Eater tortures and she knew that if Ron came out of this alive (especially in his condition!), it would be a miracle. And even if he did come out of it alive, he would never be the same...

"So I've gathered..." she said softly, her voice soft and strained as she stared ahead vaguely before she raised haunted brown eyes to Draco. "They'll kill him."

"Quite possibly," Draco drawled with a stoic nod.

"For certain," she said softly. "Ron will never join them or help them willingly. They'll kill him... slowly.." she said shakily and stood up, looking at him intently. "Why did you knock Harry out if you don't have anything to do with this?!" she demanded.

Draco stood up, only an inch or two taller, and looked at her dispassionately. "Snape told me to watch him and make sure he didn't run off on a half-baked rescue attempt which, of course, was all he wanted to do the moment he left. I had to resort to drastic measures..."

Hermione laughed shakily. "And you think knocking him out is going to prevent him from leaving?" she asked doubtfully and shook her head. "You don't know Harry. Once he's made up his mind, he can't be stopped or swayed by anyone! He's completely loyal to anyone he considers his friend, and he won't let Ron stay in Voldemort's hands for long. You'll have to chain him in the dungeon to keep him here, and even then there's no guarantee he won't find a way out," she said softly.

"In that case, he has fewer braincells than even I thought," Draco retorted. "But I'm sure he won't be under my charge for long... He can go about his suicide however he wishes as soon as I'm out of the picture."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And when will that be? If Snape told you to watch him, I think that implies long-term, and by then, Ron could be dead. It seems to me you'll have no choice but to let him go, Malfoy... either that or go with him! Or rather, with us. You see, I plan to help Harry if he goes. That's what friends do. They help each other," she said sardonically, as though talking to a two year old who wouldn't understand such a concept.

Draco scoffed quietly, and folded his bony arms over his equally-thin chest. "I sincerely doubt I would be of much use to you... not willingly, in any case. And I don't care how long he implied, I will talk to him at the earliest opportunity and make him choose someone else to do the Gryffindor-sitting. This is a ridiculous waste of my time."

Hermione scoffed, looking disgusted. "Of course it is. I suppose anything meaningful is a waste of your precious time, isn't it, Malfoy? You have hair to comb, nails to file, people to torment. You can't be bothered with the ideals of good and evil, friendship and loyalty! You're a shallow, selfish little ferret and why Harry has any faith in you at all is beyond me! The sad part is that if it had been you who'd been kidnapped instead of Ron, I bet Harry would be just as eager to go off to rescue you! You don't deserve his friendship or his loyalty," she said with narrowed eyes.

"But the least you could do is just let him go. So you get yelled at by Snape? So what! At least you'd make a stand for something for once in your pathetic life."

Draco was unaccustomed to being personally attacked in such a manner, and so he looked almost taken aback, or at the very least - affronted... Then he narrowed his grey eyes to a glare. "For someone praised with intelligence, you are extremely ignorant," he said icily, before smirking thinly.

"Or perhaps it isn't ignorance... perhaps it's prejudice, for that is in many ways even more blinding. Whatever the case, you aren't half so clever as you think you are... and your friend here is going to get himself killed if you can't knock some sense into him (pardon the pun)... Frankly, I desperately want out of your little freak show, but I will not stoop to letting him go gallivanting off on a suicide mission in order to obtain that goal. He is useless enough alive, I daren't imagine what new levels of inadequacy he'd achieve if he were dead."

Hermione's face flushed pink with rage. "Prejudice?!" she demanded. "You have the AUDACITY to accuse ME of being prejudiced when you are the one who on more than one occasion called me a 'mudblood', you pretentious hypocrite?! Perhaps you should look up the definition of the word! It means to condemn without evidence! I have the evidence that you're shallow and selfish because every action you've ever displayed up until this point has been nothing but to further your own little agenda. In fact, the most human I've ever seen you was just now when you were tending to Harry! You were almost compassionate for a brief moment, so maybe you're not completely lost and there's some hope for you as Harry believes! But either way, I am NOT prejudiced! I'm protective and I have every right to be considering Harry has been targeted since the day he was born!" she exclaimed and narrowed her eyes viciously.

"And I wouldn't be so quick to underestimate him if I were you, Malfoy. He may seem gentle and sweet and naive to you, but trust me, he's got more power in his little finger than you could ever dream of! He's our only hope," she said firmly with conviction, her faith in her friend absolute.

"And if you want to tag along and try to be of use, you're welcome to! But don't think for a moment that you're going to be having to save poor Harry from the evil death eaters! If anything, he might have to save you," she said indignantly.

Another vase on a bedside table, this time one holding water and a bunch of flowers, abruptly shattered... though it was without the aid of Harry's head this time.

Draco didn't look away from Hermione, grey eyes blazing into hers as if wanting to see right through her. "I think I can take care of myself... And he is a hope. He's not the only one..."

Hermione was briefly startled by the sound of the vase shattering, and she took a step back, chastising herself for being intimidated and frowned at his pronouncement.

"Oh?" she asked, trying to sound as though she hadn't just been cowed by the show of power. "I'd like to hear you name me one other then," she challenged. "The prophecy says he will have to kill Voldemort."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Someone doesn't know her history," he drawled simply, almost coyly.

Hermione glared. "I know my history just fine, thank you!" she snapped.

"Obviously you do not..."

"Which part of history are you referring to then?" Hermione demanded.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because how do I know you're not just making it up to sound smarter than you are if you don't?" she challenged.

"Guess you'd have to trust me..." Draco said with a mock-smile.

"I'd sooner trust a vampire to guard the blood bank," Hermione said tensely.

"Hmm... You say that like it's never happened before."

"Just tell me what you're talking about, Malfoy! What hope?!" she demanded tensely. "I know my history very well thank you! But I don't recall any mention of anything regarding this except--" she cut off, frowning. "Are you referring to the other prophesies? But they're just legend, Malfoy! Nothing substantially conclusive! And they're so vague that no one can interpret them!"

"Almost no one," Draco replied, quirking an eyebrow, then shrugging. "And isn't Potter's prophecy 'just legend' too?"

"No... not really! Voldemort certainly has faith in it. Enough to try and kill him!" Hermione exclaimed.

Draco wandered over to the nearest window and settled himself in the sill, raising one foot onto it beside him and loosely draping his arm over the raised knee. He looked amused. "...Which is not evidence. That is just his belief. His faith in the truth of it created the first stages of the prophecy to come to pass... Fate can be self-created."

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "So you're saying you think that those other prophecies could be fulfilled as well?" she asked and shook her head. "Perhaps that's true. Perhaps they can! But that's not the point, is it? The point is, Harry is part of the prophecy, and even if he isn't the only hope, he is still a hope and he's not as incompetent or stupid as you make him out to be! He's been fighting evil while you've been kissing it's bum!" she exclaimed indignantly and looked serious. "Ron's death would kill him."

Draco looked over at her levelly, bone-thin frame looking deceptively at ease. "No, it wouldn't..." he drawled quietly.

Hermione frowned, almost tempted to ask how he knew that... as if he just knew that it wouldn't... as if he'd had experience in that matter. But she didn't ask. It wasn't any of her business.

"Perhaps not physically. But in every way that mattered, it would!" she exclaimed. "Ron's the only family Harry has. He has me too but..." she trailed and sighed. "It's not the same," she said softly and looked wry. "Perhaps this is the part of that prophecy you put so much faith in that gets fulfilled. How does it go? 'And if the red sun darkens, the night sky and the pale moon shall'---" she began but was cut off.

"'---swallow the stars, leaving the earth to depend on one alone for all eternity'."

Hermione blinked in surprise, taken aback that he knew the prophecy by heart and shifted awkwardly.

"You've studied," she said flatly, as close to a compliment as she could get, trying not to be impressed.

Draco raised an eyebrow and placed a bony hand to his chest, over his Slytherin tie. "Who, me? Oh no... I'm just a shallow ferret..."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You can be smart but still be shallow, you know!" she exclaimed and sighed. "Though I admit it's hard to do. Fine then, you're not as shallow as I thought you were."

"How flattering... My life is worth living again."

"Can you two keep it down? My head aches..."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, coming over to her friend and reaching for his hand, looking at him worriedly. "Are you alright?" she asked anxiously.

"Fine..." Harry said softly and turned to Draco, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "I feel like I was hit over the head with something, though."

"You just automatically assume it was me? Granger might have PMS..." Draco drawled defensively.

Harry scoffed, sitting up slowly and winced as he reached up to touch his head. "Yeah... right," he said softly. "She's not in the habit of committing acts of violence towards me. You, however, are."

Draco looked unfazed and didn't apologise. "Hurts, does it? Smarts just a little?"

"He says he knocked you out for your own good," Hermione said with a glare. "Want me to turn him into a slug for you?"

"Like to see you try, Granger."

Harry looked at Draco in surprise and blinked. "Is this true?" he asked. "You... knocked me out to keep me from going?"

Draco looked around and folded his bony arms. "In a fashion... You would have got me in trouble."

Harry grinned. "Liar!" he exclaimed and stood up and did the most incredible thing.

He hugged Draco.

Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw dropped in shock.

Draco flinched and immediately struggled. "What are - you doing -?! Get - off me!"

Harry continued to hug him tightly. "You were trying to protect me!" he exclaimed and pulled back with a grin. "You do care! Ha! Told you! We're friends!"

"No, we are NOT!" Draco retorted, pushing himself back from Harry, looking almost afraid, shaking for the aftermath of the hugging. Ugh... he was covered in Gryffindor cooties.

Harry just grinned. "Yes... we are," he said firmly. "You knocked me out to protect me! And that's a sweet sentiment, really. And don't give me this 'you would have gotten me in trouble' junk! I think we both know Snape would lick the floor if you begged him to. The guy's got a soft touch where you're concerned. You could have looked up at him with those big, grey eyes and manipulated him into giving you his bank account information! So you did it to protect me," he said confidently.

Draco was feeling pretty stressed by this point. He'd gladly rewind back to boring classes now... gladly accept a tedious fate rather than all of this nonsense.

The worst thing about it was that in some small way, Potter had a point. He hadn't wanted him to get himself killed... That didn't make them friends, but it made him right and that was just nauseating.

The blond abruptly placed his hands on top of his head, raised arms supposed to free up the ribcage and breathed purposefully through his nose, closing his eyes. He tried to imagine himself far away from either Potter or Granger... back in the cell, even... Anywhere but HERE.

Harry paled. "Draco!" he exclaimed and reached out to place a hand on his shoulder anxiously. "Are you okay? Oh god... are you going to lose concentration again? Do you need to lay down? Hermione, grab a breathing mask! He's going to start hyperventilating again probably!"

Draco refused to open his eyes, but tensed for the hand on his shoulder. "Don't touch me... And I'm not about to faint, you moron! I'm ignoring your existence..."

Harry sighed heavily, removing his hand and shaking his head. "I still don't understand you. I guess you're still just prejudiced against me. I can understand that; you've probably been brainwashed to hate me since before you could walk! Ah well. I can be patient. In any case, I'm sorry if it upsets you, but I'm still leaving to go after Ron. I might, however, have a better chance of getting him and myself out of there alive if you were to help me by giving me a few more details about this stronghold you mentioned."

Draco shook his head slowly, not opening his eyes, still looking odd sitting on the sill with crossed legs and his arms raised to keep his hands on top of his head... "No. You can't go."

Harry frowned. "Why not?!" he demanded tensely.

"Ugh!" Draco opened his eyes and lowered his arms, the breathing exercises not helping at all. "Because - you can't!"

Harry looked sympathetic. "Draco... I have no intention of dying."

Draco rolled his eyes. "No one who goes there does... It just tends to end up that way," he said quietly, standing up and pacing away slowly, mind buzzing, because this was a stupid situation... He should get Snape to just tie him up somewhere - it was for his own good! He obviously had a death wish... an unconscious one...

Harry sighed heavily. "Some things are worth dying for, Draco. It's worth the risk! And I know I can get him out if you'll just tell me what to expect! How many guards are there? Is there any special routine to their watch?"

"If you can tell me where they're located, I can possibly get a map or a layout of the fortress," Hermione suggested softly.

"See? Now we're getting somewhere! We wouldn't just go in blindly without a plan, Draco! We'd take precautions," Harry assured.

Draco stopped and turned on his heel, tugging his white shirt straighter over his school trousers. "Oh... precautions, you say? Well, that makes all the difference! I'm sure it'll be perfectly safe now," he said sardonically.

"I never said it was perfectly safe!" Harry snapped, standing up. "But I've never had the luxury of playing it safe before. We'll do what we can, but in the end you're right; we'll be outnumbered, overpowered and it's very likely we could die. Sounds like just another day to me! So are you going to tell me or not?"

Draco stood still and tense for a moment, glaring despite the gradual loss of resolve in his eyes. Finally, his shoulders dropped slightly, and he wearily rolled his eyes. "Fine..." he murmured softly, looking oddly defeated, even haunted. "First thing to address is how I will obtain Snape's permission to leave the school grounds."

Harry frowned. "You?" he asked. "What do you mean? I said tell me where to go! Not come with me!"

Draco looked mildly sardonic. "Yes... annoying when someone won't do what you tell them, isn't it?"

Harry glared. "Draco, you can't come! It's dangerous! You could be killed!"

Hermione sighed and took a seat, deciding this new argument might take a while. She wished she had some popcorn..

"So could you... and yet, amazingly, you lack the common sense to back out."

"That's because it's my friend's life on the line!" Harry exclaimed. "So what's your excuse?! Unless you're going to admit that we're friends and you're coming along to keep me safe." he said with a small smile.

"No... but there's no way I can 'describe' the things you need to know," Draco said, giving himself quotations, and sauntering over to the bed Harry had vacated to sit and recline on it with arms folded behind his head. "So I'll just have to go and make sure you don't screw things up."

Harry could have pointed out that it amounted to the same thing; that Draco was essentially risking his own neck for someone who should have meant nothing to him! But he didn't say a word. He knew that Draco wouldn't admit to anything at this point and he didn't want to push him too far.

"Alright..." Harry said softly, letting it go. "That first objective won't be too difficult. Snape would do anything for you. Just ask him!"

"He might say 'no', Harry," Hermione pointed out. "If Snape is determined to keep Draco safe, he might not want to let him leave the grounds."

Harry frowned. "So...what are our options then? Lie?" he asked. "The man knows when people lie! Believe me, I've tried."

"I've managed to lie to him once," Draco murmured quietly, and sighed, because it had been extremely hard work and had tested the limits of his mind power.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Over what?"

"Never you mind."

"No, no, now I'm interested too!" Hermione pressed, leaning forward curiously, unable to believe she was actually having civil conversation and planning a rescue attempt with Draco! "It must have been pretty important if you were going to those lengths."

Draco's brows drew together in annoyance. "I really don't see what this has to do with anything. Bottom line, I can lie to him providing we think of a plausible enough lie."

"Perhaps it doesn't have to be a complete lie!" Harry suggested. "A half-truth mixed with a lie?" he asked.

"Take Harry to Hogsmeade," Hermione suggested. "He needs cheering up, after all? Distraction? We can pass through Hogsmeade on the way out, so it won't be a lie."

"That'll have to do, I suppose," Draco agreed, sitting up on the bed again and looking thoughtful, wondering if he'd be able to lie again so easily or not...

"Before you leave, at least give us a hint about what you lied about!" Harry exclaimed, still dying of curiosity.

"I bet it was something sordid. Had relations with a goat, Malfoy?" Hermione asked sardonically.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her slightly. "I know how to torture effectively," he threatened.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, Draco. Just tell us! Or she'll nag the entire way."

Draco stood up, tugging his tie undone and off his neck, since it was obvious he'd not be attending classes for the remainder of the day... or perhaps ever again. "It was just a little thing... concerning drugs, Potter! Not the potions sort... Are you quite satisfied?" he asked irritatedly.

"DRUGS?!" both Gryffindors asked in unison and shock.

"You did drugs?!" Harry demanded. "What kind?!"

"I hope you know drugs are very, very bad for you, Malfoy!" Hermione lectured.

"They cause brain damage!"

"As if they could have any impact on either of you..." Draco said composedly, and frowned. "And the kind is hardly important... and I don't know the muggle word for it anyway..."

Harry looked tense and worried. "You're not still on them... are you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Certainly not."

"Good! Glad you saw sense," Hermione approved.

"Me too," Harry said softly and shuddered. "I just don't like the idea of having something mess with my head like that!"

Hermione stood up. "I suggest we adjourn this meeting and start getting supplies ready. Malfoy, if you'll handle Snape, we'll handle the other necessary arrangements," she assured formally.

"Fine," Draco said with a small shrug, wondering if he'd just made a big mistake telling Gryffindors anything even remotely personal... Yes... probably.

Hermione left first, but Harry lingered and bit a lip, looking at Draco almost awkwardly for a moment, before hugging him again quickly and drawing back.

"Thanks," he said softly. "This means a lot to me, Draco. I owe you a lot for this one," he said softly and flushed for some reason, before turning to leave.

Draco blinked... twice... then slowly turned and left the infirmary uneasily.

Insanity...

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More soon. Read and Review! xx 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. None of the canon characters belong to me... Demora Chambers belongs to Vi. Rowan Chambers is mine. Other than that, it's basically all down to J.K Rowling.

Authors Note: Okay, just a minor warning... there's some torture in this one, but the graphicness is more psychological than gory to my mind. In any case, this is your warning. Hope u enjoy.

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**Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes**

Chapter Five

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Hogsmeade was crowded, almost as though the shoppers were out and about simply to spite the war and the fear that had spread throughout the wizarding community. But even amidst the obvious delight of the shoppers, there was an air of tension and strangers were noticed, locals narrowing their eyes at them almost suspiciously and keeping their children close to them in case someone meant them harm.

Demora Chambers was in a foul mood, silently fuming as she walked the streets of Hogsmeade and just because she was in such a sour mood and needed to vent, she held out a heeled boot and tripped a fat man carrying several bags, sending him sprawling head-first.

"Oops! Sorry!" she called, but obviously didn't mean it.

She immediately felt guilty. She could hear her mother's voice in her head right now, lecturing her about her temper and the little mean streak that sometimes surfaced. Demora tried to ignore it. She was mad and she had every right to be! Most of all, she was disappointed...

Also, she needed to sit down somewhere and eat. She was hypoglycaemic and she always got a bit edgy if she didn't eat regularly. Food would make her feel better.

Demora sighed and made an impatient noise as she turned around and frowned at the brunette behind her. Anyone who saw him would wonder why the girl wanted to frown at him. Her brother had earned more than one sigh, blessed with bright blue eyes, thick dark-brown hair that complimented his pale features and a body that everyone said was 'dreamy'. But right now, to her, he was just the same annoying but loveable prat who used to pull her pale-blond hair as a child. She secretly adored him...

"Can you possibly move any slower?!" she demanded. "I would like to get to the Hog's Head before tomorrow, Rowan!" she exclaimed imperiously. She had never completely lost that little princessy note of arrogance in her tone that she'd had upon being admitted to the Chambers' home.

She was usually a sweet, gentle person. But not now. Not when all her hopes had been dashed and she was still reeling from the revelations of the past few weeks.

The brunette looked around absently, having been lost in thought while he waited for his camera to rewind itself. Bright blue eyes blinked a couple of times to refocus. "Huh? Oh... right," he said, and jogged a few steps to catch up to her.

As he was wearing rather baggy blue jeans, he took advantage of the large pockets and placed his palm-sized, black camera into one. He tugged his dark-grey t-shirt straighter over that, picked off a spec of lint, then ran a hand back through his hair. "Sorry, Dora... What did you say? Oh, hey, cool - look at those joke packs! We should get one..." he mused, easily distracted.

Demora sighed and reached for her brother's hand, dragging him along with a roll of her eyes, though she secretly found him amusing. At twenty, he sometimes acted younger than she was! But then again, there were other times when it was obvious who was older and more mature.

"Later, Rowan..." she muttered. "I'm tired and hungry, okay? I barely slept last night and that barbaric, babbling bitch at the Ministry wouldn't even give me so much as the time of day! We came all this way only to reach a dead end! I need some chocolate..." she said poutingly.

Rowan's handsome features softened and he draped an arm around her narrow shoulders gently in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Dora... I know you're disappointed. But hey, it's not a total loss... We got away for a few days, took in some culture -- er, if seeing that guy urinate in the London Underground counts as culture -- and we can have all the chocolate you want... In fact, I insist upon it. Why don't you sit on that garden wall for a minute while I scout about and find us a good place to eat?" he suggested cajolingly.

Demora looked hesitant, hating it when he got all gentle and sweet with her. It made pouting and acting like a shrew all the harder! But eventually she rolled her grey eyes and nodded in concession.

"Alright. But don't go wandering off like you did last time! I don't want to have to go looking for you. Do you have your antibacterial wipes?" she asked. "I've got extras if you need them!" she assured, knowing he never went anywhere without them, being exceptionally germ-conscious, among other things.

Rowan patted his other pocket. "I have enough, thanks," he assured and looked amused, because he knew she secretly hated it when he was too nice... He couldn't help it, unfortunately. His mother said it was his greatest asset and his biggest fault.

He wandered off to the left, peering at menus in the windows of restaurants to see what was on offer; in particular if they had chocolate in any of their desserts...

Demora sighed, settling on the garden wall, her pale blond hair pulled back in clips and easily balanced her slender frame on the wall casually, picking at a nail critically, before her attention was grasped by a blond coming out of a store.

"Draco!" Harry called from across the street and rushed over to him. "There you are. Did you get what you needed?" he asked, Draco having insisted on stopping at the apothecary to get some extra supplies, deeming Hermione's preparations 'inadequate', which had pissed her off.

Draco handed Harry the bag, as if that was his main purpose (which it was)... He was the brains, Harry was the manual labour and Granger was... Granger.

"Yes, that ought to do," he drawled, brushing some hair behind an ear. He had changed his clothes, voting to wear black jeans and a pale-grey t-shirt he'd discovered. The jeans fit but the t-shirt was baggy; but both items defined his thinness in any case.

He'd worn these clothes out of necessity, not choice, it was painfully important to note. He just knew that good clothes would get ruined... like on raids...

Demora stared and watched the exchange closely, not recognizing the famous wizard and not caring to. Her eyes were completely focused on the blond, watching his every move, her heart pounding.

She had very few memories prior to living with the Chambers. She remembered her mother, of course; a beautiful but cold woman who had cared more for dressing her daughter up in silly dresses and teaching her not to fidget at parties than she did for love and affection. She had only a few memories of her father, but they were vague and distorted, as if a part of her didn't even want to remember him. She knew she had been afraid of him. But one thing she did remember with vivid, painful clarity was her brother... her twin...

His name had been Draco.

Not a common name by any means, and so when she'd read in the papers that a Draco Malfoy had been imprisoned by the Ministry, she'd literally fainted... er... momentarily lapsed in her concentration.

She had always been told by her adopted family that they believed her brother dead and her parents were not the nicest of people and she was never given any other information than that. She knew they wanted to protect her and that was why they were so secretive, but a part of her had hoped when she'd seen that article.

Was it possible her brother was alive?

She'd travelled all the way from France to find out, only to find the Draco Malfoy mentioned in the paper had been released. She had no idea what he'd looked like. If he'd been a brunette, chances were he was not her twin! But this boy was named Draco... and he was blond like her, and his face was almost too familiar...

Demora could do nothing but stare, stunned and frozen in place, wishing she had the strength to get up and go over to him, but she wasn't entirely sure her legs would hold her right now..

Draco was frowning, tugging his t-shirt in distraction; how people dressed like this from day to day was lost on him... "Where is the bookworm wonder, incidentally? I don't want to have lied my arse off to get out here for nothing..." he drawled, looking around briefly to try and catch sight of the frizzy-haired nerd...

A blond girl sitting on the wall in the shade of a tree drew his gaze and, for just a moment, he paused... almost as if in recognition, before he shook his head at himself, and looked away again...

"I'm here!" Hermione exclaimed, coming out of... a bookshop... holding up a book almost in triumph.

Inadequate, her rear end!

"I've got something that's sure to be of use!" she exclaimed haughtily as she approached them. "A very ancient and rare text hidden under some dusty old forgotten books, but it's got maps and floor plans in it of many of the ancient fortresses and abandoned castles! It's very possible the place we're going is featured in here, and if it is, we'll have more than just your wondrous brain to go on!" she said sardonically.

Draco smiled with enough sarcasm to drown in as he took the book from her with a bony hand. "Oh, yes... of course... because the Dark Lord is bound to have used a fortress that was detailed in a book!" he said, flicking through the index, then handed it back to her. "Nice try, Granger."

Hermione glared, shrinking the book and pocketing it. "Well... we'll see!" she exclaimed, flushing and hating that he could make her feel stupid.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Can we leave now? Please?"

"We can," Draco allowed. "After we eat something."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Eat something?" he asked. "You're hungry?" he asked and smiled as though delighted. "Well! It's about time. What are you in the mood for?"

"Anything," Draco frowned. "I haven't eaten in eleven fucking days."

"Eleven days?!" Hermione asked in horror. "No wonder you're so - umm.. horizontally challenged."

"Skinny as a rail," Harry quipped.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I wasn't exactly lavished with feasts in the Ministry dungeon... as you well know, Potter. So I didn't eat there and dinner last night was interrupted for me... then I over-slept this morning. I am suitably famished... and might get cranky if I don't have something to keep me going soon," he drawled - as if he'd been the paragon of civility until then.

Harry nodded. "Fine then. This way! There's a good restaurant just down the road. All you can eat on me!" he assured, figuring it was the least he could do as he led his friend down the street.

Demora watched as they started to leave, and it was then she found the mind to scramble off her position to search frantically for Rowan, spotting him at a window and rushed to grab his arm and try to drag him down the street.

"It's him! It's him! I saw him, Rowan! I saw him with my own two eyes! I swear to Merlin, on Dad's grave, it's him!! He's alive!! Hurry! HURRY! We can't lose him!!" she exclaimed. "They're going to eat! We have to follow!"

Rowan startled a bit at the loud noise that was his sister's voice, then blinked. "Mmm, what?" he asked, finding it hard to follow when she rambled like that. "Eat who? What about Dad?"

Demora paused and frowned. "Try to follow me here, Rowan! I saw my brother! It's him, Rowan! I know it's him! Mum and Dad were wrong... or they just lied! But either way, it's him and he's going into that restaurant right over there and I want us to follow him!! Come on!" she exclaimed, dragging him down the road and pausing as they approached the window and held him back.

"Oh my gosh! There he is!" she hissed, pointing into the window at the blond boy who was being seated along with the brunette and the girl. "Don't look!" she snapped tensely. "What if he sees us?!" she exclaimed.

Rowan rolled his eyes, Demora pointing one minute then telling him not to look the next. "Are you sure, Dora? After all this to-ing and fro-ing, you don't want to be disappointed again... How do you know it's him?" he asked rationally, and put a hand to the glass to shade it as he peered in to try and pick out the object of his sister's panic.

Demora grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him back. "Don't be so obvious, stupid!!" she exclaimed. "I heard that boy call him 'Draco'. How many Dracos can there possibly be around here? It has to be him! He's got my hair colour and my eyes! I know it's him! I can feel it! He even looked at me and I think - I mean, for a moment I thought--" she cut off and sighed.

"Come on. Let's get a table, okay? In the back so we can watch them," she said and pushed him forward, hiding behind him as they entered the restaurant, trying to peer in between his arms and over his shoulders to keep watching Draco without being noticed.

She even ducked by a plant at one point and grabbed a menu to hide her face as they started towards the rear.

Rowan's cheeks were a little flushed with stress as he was prodded into the crowded restaurant and proceeded to be humiliated by the display Demora made of them... Oh, he was so going to deny knowing her...

They were seated at a table and Demora sat, keeping the menu up to hide her face and peered over it at the blond, watching them closely.

"There are people in the way! I can't see them..." she said in frustration and glanced at her brother with a worried frown. "Are you okay? Maybe I should have come in here by myself. I'm sorry! I didn't know it would be this crowded."

Rowan gently pushed his knife and fork straight and made sure the glass was adjacent to them. He didn't always need to, but when he was agitated it became vitally necessary. He cleared his throat though and shook his head, "No... no... m'fine..."

"Good! You can help me spy. Ooo! An elbow! I see his left elbow!" she exclaimed excitedly, as though spotting a movie star. She frowned as a woman's hat blocked the rest of the way. "Excuse me, Miss!" she snapped across the way. "Do you think you could get that chicken off your head?! It's in my way!"

The woman gasped in outrage and insult, glaring before just moving tables, giving Demora a clear view of the trio in the corner.

"Much better," she said firmly.

Rowan held his face in a hand.

"Shit!" Demora exclaimed and ducked, putting her head practically in his lap as she hid, seeing the blond had stood up. "Did he see me?! Is he leaving?!"

Rowan looked around. "No... he's going to the toilets," he surmised from the fact he'd gone through a door marked to the toilets.

"The toilets?!" Demora asked, sitting up and frowning. "How am I supposed to spy on him in the toilets?! Fine then! Go after him!"

"What?! No..."

Demora looked pained, widening her grey eyes innocently and folded her hands in a pleading way. "Puuuhleeeaase, Rowan! Please, please! I know you hate public loos but if you do this for me I'll never, ever ask for anything again, I swear!"

"That's what you said after I faked you an ID... and when I covered for you sneaking out when you were grounded... and after I broke up with Terry Berginon for you..."

Demora bit a lip, looking deceptively bashful and contrite. "I know. You're always doing wonderful things for me and I'm not the least bit appreciative. I know I'm a terrible, spoiled brat and - and you're the best brother in the world for putting up with me all this time. But - but I'm just afraid we're going to lose him..." she said softly, her eyes getting glassy with the ultimate weapon.

Tears.

Rowan paled... Oh no. He'd set off Fountain Demora...

"Shh - shh! NO, no... okay! Okay! You won't lose him, it's okay... shhh... Don't cry, please don't cry - not in front of all these people, shhh!" he shakily whispered hurriedly.

But the Fountain Demora had sprung and she started to hitch her breaths, a high-pitched, pitiful sound that had people sending him glares, as if wondering what he'd done to inspire such tears.

"No, no! Shhh-" Rowan hissed, wincing for the looks he was getting. "Shh, please... I'm going! I'm going!" he groaned, standing up and tossing down the napkin in defeat.

Demora abruptly grinned and stood up to wrap her arms around him and kissed his cheek with a loud smack. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!! I owe you so much!"

Rowan just grumbled something mutinously under his breath.

A waitress came over at that moment to aptly offer to take their orders.

"Not yet, thank you," Rowan said. "She's still working off her Prozac..." With that, he gave his sister a slightly sarcastic smile and wincingly headed for the dreaded toilets.

The blond was already washing his hands when Rowan edged into the bathroom carefully with an anti-bacterial wipe over his mouth and nose. He gained an odd look from the extremely slender youth, but didn't hold his attention for long.

A large man waddled out of a cubicle that was still flushing and completely avoided the sinks... Rowan looked green and stayed stock still in the middle of the room even after the vile man had gone...

Draco was drying his hands carefully, but spared the green brunette another wary glance. He was obviously hanging around with Gryffindors too much... but.. he still had to ask. "Are you alright? If the food's bad, best to tell me now so I can avoid the same fate..." he drawled.

Rowan looked around, and lowered the wipe slightly so he could awkwardly reply, "Oh no... food's fine... I'm sure it's fine."

"Ah... well, um... hope you feel better," Draco drawled, tugging his t-shirt straight and making for the door.

"Hey - you don't have a sister by any chance?" Rowan abruptly blurted.

Draco stilled at the door for a second, then glanced over his shoulder. "No... I don't," he murmured, then left silently.

Rowan sighed and covered his face with the wipe again, before quickly leaving too and getting back to the table in record time. It seemed even more crowded now than when he'd left... He started wiping down both his hands with a wrinkled expression, and would have started on wiping at his glass and cutlery too if Demora hadn't stopped him.

"Well?" she asked, grasping his hand to stop him from wiping down everything on the table, truly feeling horrible for putting poor Rowan through this. To be honest, she believed half of what she'd said earlier; she knew he was utterly wonderful and indulged her far too much! Especially when he had his own problems.

She shouldn't have brought him here, and normally she wouldn't have dreamed of making him go into a public toilet, but she was truly desperate at the moment.

Rowan looked at her and focused, before raising an eyebrow. "Well? What do you want from me? Measurements?!"

"Ugh..." she said eloquently and reached for her water to sip at. "Don't be vulgar, Rowan! I want to know what happened! Did you speak to him? What does he look like up-close? Does he have any of my mannerisms?"

"Sure, we had a good, long natter... I know his life-history... and I'm not sure about mannerisms; what do you do with your hands when you're peeing? As for how he looks, he looks basically like a skeleton with blond hair..."

Demora frowned. "No need to be sarcastic!" she said hypocritically. "A skeleton? You mean he's very thin? Oh dear. What if he's sick? What if he's got leukemia or some horrible disease?! Was he throwing up in there?! He could be bulimic!"

"No, he wasn't throwing up..." Rowan assured, softening ever so slightly at her obvious concern. "And I don't know about sick... I suppose he could be; he certainly looks it. But listen, Dora... I asked him if he had a sister, it just sort of popped out -- and he said no."

Demora raised a blond eyebrow. "So?" she asked.

"Umm... so... maybe you're barking up the wrong tree here?"

Demora frowned. "Don't be silly, Rowan!" she exclaimed. "Just - just look at him!" she exclaimed, glancing across the way at the blond. "It has to be him, Rowan. How many platinum blonds named Draco can there be?" she asked and sighed, resting her hand in her chin and looking sad. "Maybe he's forgotten all about me..." she said softly, the idea twisting her stomach and sighed. "I need a drink. Will you go get me a Bloody Mary? Please?" she asked.

"But I just went into the toilets for you," Rowan argued.

"Yes! And now I'm asking you to go to the bar for me too," Demora said with a slight frown. "It's not like I can get up and do it! If I stand up, he'll see me and then how can we follow him? He might call the aurors and claim I'm stalking him or something!"

"You are!"

Demora rolled her eyes. "Yes, but not in the way he'd think!"

"Oh, which makes it so much better..."

Demora waved a hand dismissively. "It's all a mere matter of semantics!" she said airily. "One person's stalking is another person's way of saying 'I love you'," she quipped with a smirk and softened, gently reaching over to put a hand over his and squeezed gently.

"Please? I'll give you a shoulder rub later!" she bargained, knowing he got neck aches from all his tension. "And you can have all the good healthy veggies on my salad which I know you love. And the next time we go to the cinema, you can pick the film and I'll even let you hold the popcorn!"

Rowan sighed slightly, rubbing at the back of his neck with a free hand and cricking it, admittedly pretty tense... The promise of a massage was tempting.. He sighed in defeat and raised her hand to kiss the back of briefly. "Alright," he conceded wearily.

Typical doormat response. His father had been right; he'd need to find a backbone one of these days... Shame he'd died before he could have given him the right pointers on that...

The brunette wandered to the bar and leant on the smooth wood with lean arms, waiting his turn. He noticed the guy with 'Draco' come up to the bar as well, obviously sent on a similar fetching errand. If it was this Draco who'd sent him, maybe he really was Demora's twin...

Harry approached the bar, noticing the other brunette and silently doing a double take.

Wow...

"What can I get you?" the bar tender asked.

"Huh?" Harry asked blankly, momentarily distracted. "Oh! Umm... a - uhh... what did she say? Oh yes! A Tia Maria?" he asked hesitantly and smiled almost shyly at the other brunette. "All these drinks have odd names."

Rowan looked wry, nodding his agreement, and since he'd said 'she', asked, "Do you have a sister?" conversationally.

"Hmm? Me?" Harry asked, feeling the elated 'he's talking to me!' rush briefly. "Umm... no."

"Ah... Want mine?"

Harry laughed in amusement. "No... probably not!" he exclaimed, leaning against the bar, suddenly relaxed at the humour. "Why? You've got one you need to get rid of?"

"And some," Rowan said with a weary sigh, occupying himself for a moment while he waited by wiping the bar surface down with a anti-bacterial wipe.

"Mmm... sorry," Harry said softly. "I don't have much experience with family," he said softly, glad for once that he could have a normal conversation without someone recognizing him. He deliberately kept the side of his face where his scar was away. "I had a cousin who used to drive me mad! But I guess it's not the same as a sister," he said wryly.

"Not quite..." Rowan said with a dry smile. "I mean, she was okay at first... but it's like a puppy - so cute at first, but then it grows up..." he shook his head. "And she's my adopted sister technically, so we got her when she was already six... It was my 9th birthday and I'd asked for a puppy. Got a sister instead... She didn't like wearing the collar I'd bought as much..."

Harry laughed. "No, I suspect she wouldn't!" he exclaimed and shrugged. "Well... you're friends though, right?" he asked.

Rowan put the wipe away and hummed, nodding. "Yeah, we are..." he admitted grudgingly. "Bloody Mary," he ordered.

Harry hummed. "Well then... that's good then. Sister or no, girls are just difficult. I should know! My best friend Hermione... now there's bossy. And she lectures like nothing else! I suppose she's the closest thing I have to a sister in some ways. She babys me a lot. But it's worth it because when she's not doing that and driving me nuts, she's one of the best people I've ever met," he informed, waiting for his drink to arrive.

Rowan smiled a bit, then wiped his hand with a wipe before awkwardly offering it. "Nice to meet a fellow victim... Rowan Chambers."

Harry smiled slightly and took the hand, glad he'd at least had a pleasant conversation with someone interested in meeting him before they knew his name. "Harry Potter."

Rowan just nodded slightly in acknowledgment, then released the hand for the gentle shake, and wiped it over again with a wipe. "Flu season," he excused bashfully.

Harry blinked.

No reaction...

He looked at the brunette in utter fascination. "Right... umm... no, I understand," he assured, smiling shakily. "You're not from around here, are you?" he gathered. "Are you a muggle?" he asked curiously. "Sorry! That was rude," he said quickly.

Rowan raised an eyebrow slightly. "Umm... yes, it was a little. No, I'm not as it happens... and I do come from around here - originally. I grew up in France, though."

"Ahh..." Harry said softly and flushed. "I'm sorry. It's just... usually when I tell people my name they react... oddly. So.. I figured you weren't from around here."

"Ah," Rowan said softly, and nodded. "Understandable, I guess..." he supposed.

"Oh?" Harry asked curiously.

"Mmhmmm," Rowan hummed and thanked the barman when they got their drinks.

Harry got his drink and sighed. "Well... it was very nice to meet you. Good luck with your sister!"

"You too!" Rowan smiled a bit. "Stay away from newspapers," he added, before turning back to his table.

Harry blinked, staring after Rowan almost dazedly. He'd known! He'd known and - he'd not reacted oddly!

He had a vague, almost dreamy smile on his face as he came back to the table and handed Hermione her drink.

Hermione frowned as she took it. "Took you long enough!" she exclaimed and narrowed her eyes at his look. "Well... you certainly look all starry-eyed. Have a nice conversation?"

"Hmm? What? Oh... yes. Very nice chap..." Harry assured, stirring his drink and not meeting her eyes... or Draco's, for that matter, which he could almost feel on him.

Hermione looked at him shrewdly. "I'll bet..." she drew out and sighed. "Alright. This is ridiculous! Harry... let's just be honest here. Are you gay?"

Harry had been in the process of taking a sip of his drink, but at the abrupt question, he choked on it and started coughing and choking.

Hermione started patting him on the back hard. "Well goodness, Harry!! There's no need to choke!!"

Harry continued to cough, his face red... and not just from the effort to breathe either. "W-Why - why would... you ask - that?" he asked, between coughs and gasps of air.

"Well... gee... I don't know... the fact that you just spent the past twenty minutes flirting with that brunette at the bar!" Hermione asked mock-seriously.

Harry looked stunned and shook his head. "I--I wasn't f-flirting! I was - I was just... making conversation! He has a crazy sister and - and I was telling him about you, who is obviously equally crazy!"

"Riiiiight..." Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "Come on, Harry! I'm not the only one who's noticed. It's nothing to be ashamed of! The wizarding world has accepted gay people as just another part of the community for over two thousand years!"

Harry frowned. "I'm not gay, Hermione!"

"Oh no?" Hermione asked and pointed to a lovely brunette girl across the way. "Fine then. Look at that girl and tell me the first thing you notice."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione, this is crazy!" he exclaimed.

"Just do it!" Hermione said firmly.

Harry sighed and looked at the girl consideringly. "Umm... she's wearing a dress that looks like it should have been featured in 'Whore's Weekly'?"

Hermione looked dry. "Yup. You're gay."

"I am not!!" Harry exclaimed. "Draco, back me up here! Is that or is that not the most atrocious thing you've ever seen on a living human being?"

"You were supposed to notice her breasts that are almost popping out of that atrocious thing!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione, it's kind of hard not to notice the fact that she's almost falling out of that thing. I'm not blind you know!"

"But that's not the point! You're a guy! Straight guys don't care about clothes! They care about the body that is in the clothes!" she exclaimed.

Harry frowned, seeming to pause, before shaking his head. "Nahh... you're just pulling my leg there!" he exclaimed. "This is silly! Come on, try something else. That wasn't a fair test!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Alright. Fine. See that guy over at the bar?" she asked, pointing to a sandy-blond muscular guy who was frankly quite hot. "Tell me what you notice first about him!"

Harry glanced over, his eyes widened... and he flushed bright red.

Hermione smirked. "I rest my case!" she said arrogantly.

Harry frowned... and pouted into his glass of butterbeer.

He would need to think about this.

Draco looked mildly entertained, but was mainly concerned with eating as much as possible before the next disaster cropped up and interrupted them. He'd managed a good portion of the pasta in white sauce he'd ordered, but paused enough to comment, "Quite the scoop there; 'Harry Potter: gay hero extraordinaire'..."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry said tensely, obviously in a foul mood now and Draco was the closest and easiest person to take it out on. "I think we have bigger things to worry about than my sexuality!"

"Indeed... like what other little secrets are you hiding? Do you have any peculiar interest in heels? Do dresses feel more comfortable to you?"

Harry glared, going pink. "That may be what your other friends have practiced in the past, Draco (Merlin knows Crabbe and Goyle were so fat that they needed bras!)... but I assure you I have no such inclinations!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well... at least this solves the other dilemma."

"What other dilemma?" Harry asked.

"About whether or not you love Ron!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry frowned. "What are you talking about? Of course I love Ron! What does that have to do with anything?"

It was Hermione's turn to cough on her pasta and she looked at Harry in shock. "You love Ron?!"

Harry sighed. "Am I missing something here?!" he asked.

Hermione looked strained. "Oh Harry! I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Can I get you something? Another butterbeer? Do you want something else to eat? Maybe we should stop somewhere and - and get you some chocolate or something!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, great idea," Draco drawled. "Gives the Death Eaters more time to torture and kill him."

Harry frowned. "Really, Hermione!" he exclaimed. "I'm fine. Jeez, no need to act like I'm dying or something! Ron's the one who's been kidnapped, not me. Are you almost done, Draco? We can take some of this to go you know."

"Not necessary..." Draco stated, very nearly finished.

"You haven't eaten in eleven days! Which is utterly ridiculous by the way. You need to eat regularly Draco," Harry said sternly. "I just want to make sure you've had your fill before we leave. I brought plenty of food with us though for dinner tonight. You mentioned we'll probably have to camp out somewhere, which I hate because that just means more time for them to hurt Ron." he said darkly.

Draco looked nonplussed, then shrugged bonily. "This will keep me going... And yes, we will need to set up camp; unfortunately the journey can't be made in one afternoon."

Harry hummed darkly. "Fine then. Let's get going! The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get to Ron!" he exclaimed, standing up and putting some money on the table.

Demora looked stricken as she saw the trio stand up. "Oh no! Oh no, oh NO! They're leaving!" she exclaimed and looked to Rowan urgently. "We have to follow them! Who knows when we could see him again? We have no idea where he's staying or anything! If we lose him now we might never find him again!" she exclaimed and took out her purse and paid the money for their drinks and what little of their meal they'd been able to eat.

Rowan sighed and stood up, frankly not about to argue as he wanted to get out of the crowded room. "Just go over to him! Where's the sense in all this sneaking around? Just talk to him!"

Demora looked stricken. "Talk to him? What do I say, Rowan? 'Hello, Draco! Remember me? I'm your long lost twin! My life's been grand. How about yours? Is it true the Malfoys are Death Eating bastards?!'" she asked mockingly. "I can't just walk up and talk to him Rowan! I need to watch him... to learn more about him before I put myself out there like that!"

"And apparently you feel the need to know his bathroom habits as well; I think this goes beyond reasonable behaviour, Dora."

Demora looked pleading and took his hand in both of hers. "Puh-lease, Rowan! I promise I'll talk to him soon! I just -- I just want to be careful about this, okay? I don't want to ruin this! If I do, I'll regret it for the rest of my life! We've been parted since we were six and---and - and he's GONE!" she exclaimed, looking panicked. "Oh god! Oh god, they've left the restaurant! What'll we do?! I know!! We'll get some of those - umm... whatchamacallits! Binoculars!!!"

Rowan sighed heavily, and sympathetically smoothed down some of his sister's blond hair. "Dora... have you considered getting help?"

Demora frowned slightly. "Help?" she asked and she grinned. "Ooo! A private investigator! Great idea!!!"

"No... not a private investigator... more like - a psychiatrist?" Rowan suggested tentatively, leading her out of the restaurant. "Hey, you could use mine even! He's really good."

It was the wrong thing to say obviously, as Demora stiffened and her grey eyes grew distant as she lifted her chin, unknowingly looking like Draco at his most haughtiest.

"I don't need a psychiatrist!" she spat coldly, removing her arm from his grasp and looking indignant. "Fine then. If you don't wish to help me in my quest, then I shall continue on my own. I'm seventeen now! I don't need you to baby-sit me, Rowan! I can take care of myself, so you can go back to Mother and simply tell her that your little sister has gone crazy in pursuit of her twin!" she said.

Rowan sighed, bright-blue eyes softening in guilt as he hurried after her. "I didn't mean it like that!" he entreated. "Dora...? Stop, Dora..." he said, trying to halt her, but getting nowhere, and continuing to hurry to match her quick pace.

"Dora... Dora!" he urged, then sighed. "Dora...?" he tried more pleadingly, and then stopped and frowned. "Ugh! Stop it, Dora... I am not going to just come running after you every time you have a temper tantrum!"

He watched her turn into an alley with her head still held high, looked around... and fidgeted... then let out a frustrated breath and tugged his jeans straighter so he could run after her.

Demora was leaning up against a wall, calmly inspecting a nail as he rounded a corner and passed her without seeing her, obviously in a hurry to find her.

"They're heading for the forest," Demora informed him from behind, smiling in slight amusement and feeling a little guilty for putting poor Rowan through this, but she secretly justified it by telling herself it was good for him.

Rowan had been basically afraid to go out in public for a while. An adventure was just what he needed! She knew he was terrified of adventure now, after what he'd seen, and she couldn't blame him for it. She heard the screams of his nightmares, knew from his panic attacks and flashbacks that what he'd seen had been horrific. She could only guess at the shadows in his eyes and perhaps in involving him in the drama of her life, she was trying to help him forget the drama of his own.

Rowan stopped and turned on a sickle, sighing and running a pale hand back through his dark hair. "So now what do we do? We can't go in the forest..." he said, as if that much were obvious.

"Why not?" Demora asked. "Remember that camping trip father took us on?" she asked, and inwardly winced at herself for bringing up their father. His death had been very hard on Rowan! Her too, of course, but it was different.

She supposed it had something to do with blood, because while she had loved the man she had come to think of as her father, there had always been some distance there... some inner worry as to whether or not she was truly one of them. She had sometimes felt like the step-child or the niece more than the daughter, but there had been a considerable amount of love and support, so she hadn't questioned it, and she had grieved along with her mother and her brother, but it had not been the kind of gut-wrenching, ruin your life grief that she had felt when she lost her twin.

But Rowan had felt it. He had felt it so deeply that--

She cut her thoughts off, deciding she needed to change the subject. "We can buy some supplies in that store across the way! And we'll follow them, but give them plenty of space so they don't know it."

Rowan paled slightly. "What? In there? But... insects and... spiders and... dirt! Lots of dirt... germs!"

Demora winced softly, forgetting that that might be a problem and she came up to cup his cheeks. "We'll get a very thick tent with a net to keep out insects and I promise we don't even have to touch the dirt, okay? I'll do everything! Remember how good I was with the outdoor stuff? Well... kind of. I mean, I did burn the tent down that one time but it wasn't my fault! I can figure out how to cook and do all the menial work. Please?" she begged. "If it gets too dirty or too much for you, we'll go back and find a hotel, I promise!"

Rowan still looked exceedingly tense and anxious... getting a little twitchy as a result. His breathing was rather shallow, something of a warning sign... "I don't - I don't know..."

Demora looked strained. "Oh dear..." she said softly and grasped his arm, taking him over to a bench after wiping it off carefully and sat down with him. "Rowan, listen okay? You used to love the environment! It's no different than then. You won't get dirty, I promise! We'll have bug spray and - and everything else! And the second you say, we'll turn around. You'll be in charge the whole time, alright?"

Rowan looked at the ground in front of his trainer-clad feet, wringing his hands slowly on his lap... "Promise? You - promise?" he murmured, finally.

Demora reached over to one of his wringing hands and took out an anti-bacterial wipe and started to gently clean his hands. It was something she had done for him a million times, finding that the action soothed him during panics, attacks or times of stress and she considered it an odd, affectionate gesture.

"You have my word," she said softly, and meant it. As much as she wanted to find her twin, she wouldn't risk Rowan. Not after what he'd been through. She had to protect him and she wouldn't push him too far.

The brunette drew and let out a steadier breath, controlling his panic before it could lead to anything unpleasant. "Alright," he said quietly.

He just hoped it wasn't like the time she 'promised' not to tell their mother about Belinda Vale...

Rowan watched Demora wiping his hands for a moment, turning them to allow her access, then smiled wanly and leant over to kiss her cheek. "Come on then. Let's find this other brother of yours..."

Demora felt a twist in her stomach and flushed at the kiss, but stood up quickly and determined to get on with it.

"Great!" she exclaimed and grabbed his hand. "Come on! Let's hurry before they get too far ahead! And I need to stop at the clothing shop too! I haven't a thing to wear in the woods and if we're going to rough it, I don't want to ruin my cashmere!" she said sensibly.

"Well... as long as you're not losing sight of what's important..." Rowan said blandly, following her lead.

* * *

The old flagstones were so aged and worn they were shiny and smooth on the most-used parts... The steps up to the plateau for the throne were small but pointed with meaning. Dark-blue flames flickered from torches that lined the walls giving the hall a grim, creepy aura.

Kneeling before the steps, out of exhaustion rather than loyalty or reverence, was Ronald Weasley.

His pale face bore a gash on one cheek and there was some heavy bruising obvious around the base of his neck, slipping out of sight under his baggy t-shirt... His pale arms had been marred with finger-print bruising and a number of nicks and cuts too, but his blue eyes held firm, determined resolve as he stared tensely at the cloaked figure positioned on the black and red 'throne'...

"For the last... and final time... I will not tell you anything; I can't tell you anything... How do you expect me to answer questions about what hasn't come to pass yet?" he said tautly.

The Dark Lord sat stiff and arrogant in his chair, the air itself seeming to hum with power. The room itself was silent, but he knew that in the shadows were his followers, ready to follow his every command should he even blink in their direction.

Power.

He felt it, held it like a lover, and yet he craved more. He would not settle for less than he deserved... and he knew he deserved everything.

He sneered in disgust at the blood traitor before him, his red eyes blazing intently at the redhead, whom he knew he could kill with a thought. But that wasn't his purpose. He didn't want him dead... yet. In this weak, pathetic creature rested a power that Voldemort desired above all others. It was a power that could shape his destiny and therefore the destiny of the world.

And the vile, disgusting little insect didn't even know it. Or else he was playing games...

"Enough!" Voldemort exclaimed, impatience biting in his tone and he saw several of his followers flinch and took delicious pleasure in it. Fear was good. Fear meant control, and it was obvious this... boy... didn't yet understand who was in charge.

Voldemort smiled coldly. "You are trying my patience, Mr. Weasley," he said softly in an evil hiss. "But perhaps you don't understand your predicament yet. It's understandable; you've been listening to the delusions of an old man and his pet boy hero. I can see where you might be... confused..." he said softly and leaned forward over his knees so a part of his ghastly, snake-like features were revealed as he leaned closer to the boy.

"So I am going to explain things to you so you will be able to rethink your position more clearly. You are my captive. The chances of your rescue are about as likely as the sun refusing to rise tomorrow. Your life is in my hands. Now... I can make you very comfortable... or very miserable! It's your choice. And what's more, I can also affect your family and their level of comfort. You love that little shack you live in, don't you?" he asked icily.

"I wonder how you would feel if it were to be burned to the ground. I wonder also how you would feel if something... tragic... were to happen to your family. Does that clarify things for you, Mr. Weasley?" he asked softly. "Or do you perhaps need...a demonstration?" he asked and his eyes flashed red as he pointed his wand at the redhead.

"CRUCIO!!!"

Ron fell to the ground on his side, screaming in agony... His skin was on fire, no, it was being turned inside out... and stabbed all over at the same time! He screamed and screamed, writhing weakly in an attempt to sit up or defy in some way, but he couldn't... and frankly, he was afraid...

He almost wanted to be in the clutches of hideous acromantulas again - at least they were slightly more reasonable...

Voldemort let the pain draw on... possibly longer than was wise. But he wanted the boy to feel it! He wanted him to feel insanity clawing at the edges of his mind, to know nothing but pain and agony and to worry that it would never end. Only when Ron opened his eyes and he saw the fear, did he release him from the spell.

"There now. Perhaps you are in more of a mood to talk, Mr. Weasley," Voldemort said softly and stood up to kick the boy out of the foetal position and over onto his back, looking down at him coldly.

"I want to know what Potter's next move will be. I want to know what he knows... I want to know where Dumbledore is and what he's doing. And I want to know where the other two are!" he hissed.

Ron seemed to be falling in and out of consciousness, the curse having been dangerously prolonged. His arms still twitched with the aftershock and he heard the hissed words in a slur.

Voldemort looked angry and he waved his hand, levitating the boy off the ground and keeping him in the air, forcing him to face him.

"ANSWER ME!!" he commanded. "Where are they?!" he demanded. "I was told by a blind seer not long ago that all four are alive!! I know of but you and Potter and now of Malfoy! I want to know where he is and I want to know who is the fourth?!! And you will tell me everything I want to know about the future or I will kill not just you but your entire family!!!"

Ron dragged his blue eyes open, his breathing ragged and shallow from pain. "I... don't know-" he began, only to grimace when he felt the pressure of dark magic against his throat, strangling... He was still hoveringly helplessly, or maybe not-- With an effort, he kicked out, managing to make contact with the dark lord's midsection hard.

The Dark Lord let out a cry of pain and his red eyes flashed as he flew Ron across the room, slamming him hard against the stone wall.

"TAKE HIM!!!!" Voldemort shouted. "Show him no mercy but do NOT kill him!!! Let's see if a night in our dungeons loosens his tongue!! Give him to Whisper and let him deal with him!"

The Death Eaters rallied around the bleeding redhead, dragging him by the shirt collar from the grand hall and down to the dungeons, not even caring that he was being hurt as he was dragged down the stairs.

The stairs would be the least of his problems very soon...

The room was large and square, with chains hanging from the ceiling and the smell of death, blood and rotted flesh hung in the air. One of the Death Eaters lifted Ron up off the floor and shackled him to a chair. There was a light overhead from an open grate in the dungeon, letting in some kind of light which shone directly on Ron, casting the rest of the room in dark shadow.

All was quiet...

Ron squinted and, despite his pride, was shaking... Even that didn't shade all of the light that was blinding him. The torches above this room had to be proper fire rather than the dim blue ones...

There was a sound like a door opening and closing and footsteps slowly echoed in the room, before they stopped just behind Ron.

"As of now-" came a slow, soft whisper, "-you are mine."

The cloaked, dark figure took out a wand and aimed it at Ron, casting a spell which stripped him of his clothes, leaving him completely naked as he was shackled to the chair, intending to humiliate and humble him.

"You are not permitted to have clothes. Only people have clothes. You are no longer a person," the dark figured whispered. "You have no name. You will be referred to only as 'creature' or 'it'."

Ron pulled at the shackles on his wrists, tensing automatically for the fact that he was completely bereft of clothing... The least they could have done was let him keep his jeans on...

"My name's Ron," he spat, trying his best not to let himself shiver for the man's eerie manner and all he was saying. He made a pact with himself right then and there; a pact to try not to forget himself... It might not be easy in a place like this...

"The creature speaks, but it does not yet understand. It is defiant... stubborn... and stupid. But it will learn," the man whispered softly.

The footsteps were heard again, before in the darkness directly in front of the redhead were lit four red torches, easily discernable in the darkness.

The cloaked figure stepped into the light to stand next to Ron. His features were hidden, as were his hands which were folded inside the large, grey, hooded cloak. "How many fires are there?"

Ron wanted to back away automatically from the faceless grey robe... but obviously couldn't. He looked around warily, counting the lights, and murmured, "Four," in reply.

He could feel his heart racing inside his chest, louder than the footsteps, the crackles of flame and the man's voice all combined.

The cloaked figure left the boy's side and returned with a whip in his hand. He flicked it once and the whip turned to flame, before he turned it on Ron and lashed at his bare skin, slicing through it like butter, tearing a huge gash into his shoulder and back, the fire cauterizing the wound on contact so that he didn't bleed; he just had to live with the pain.

"No," the man whispered. "There are five," he said softly. "Look again closely and tell me how many there are."

"AHHH!" Ron couldn't help but scream, hands gripping the chair, breathing hard... The burn and the lash were indiscernible from each other - the pain just so great in both aspects. Oh god, please... anything but this and anywhere but here.

"Answer me!" the man whispered intently. "How many lights are there, creature? If you do not answer, there will be more pain!"

"Five!!"

The man smiled thinly under his cloak. "Good," he said softly and whipped him again on the other side, but only once, but it was enough to slit him down his side along his ribcage. "The correct answer is 'There are five, master!'" he whispered hissingly. "But that is good. We will move on to the next stage."

Ron cried out again, but managed to cut himself off faster that time... He gasped and gasped, feeling a little blood trickle down his side that time, and able to see the damage himself, which only made him all the more tense with fear... He knew this tactic; knew he'd never be right... would always suffer some form of pain...

The sound of a lever being pulled was heard, and then the chair Ron was in turned and leaned back, turning into a table as the legs straightened and he was laying flat, staring up at the bright lights above him.

"Tell me, creature..." came a whispered hiss from the direction of somewhere just behind his feet, but the figure invisible now in the darkness. "-You have family, do you not? Someone you are close to?"

Ron squinted for the light, but tried to look around and get some idea of where he was. "Y-yes."

The man smiled thinly and took out his wand, casting a silent charm.

Screams were heard from up above Ron... familiar screams... from familiar voices.

"AHHHH!!! NO!!!" screamed his mother.

"Oh, Merlin... OH, PLEASE NO!!" screamed his father.

"NO!! LEAVE ME ALONE!! DON'T TOUCH ME!!" Ginny cried.

"AHHHH!!! STOP IT!! LET ME GO!!!" Harry begged brokenly, and Hermione's shrill scream was heard next.

"MUM! Harry? Hermione!!" Ron shouted, in utter horror. He tugged instinctively at his straps and desperately tried to move in order to get to them.

"They can't hear you, creature," the man said softly. "But they are suffering because of you. They came to find you... and yet here you are... in one piece! And they are slowly being killed. Would you like to listen as they die?"

"NOOOO!!! LEAVE HIM ALONE!! ARTHUR!!" Molly screamed from up above.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MY ARM!!! MY ARM!" Ginny shrieked in pain.

Ron closed his eyes and turned his face away to one side, shaking tensely but trying to get a grip, trying to be sensible about this... he was being tortured! And he wasn't naive enough to think the only methods of this were physical; just because they had no emotion, didn't mean they didn't understand those they hurt did...

"Not real. It's not real, it's not real," he muttered firmly under his breath.

"You think not?" the man asked. "It's very possible. This could be just a trick to hurt you. But then again..."

"NOOOO!!!! HERMIONE!!!" Harry screamed.

"AHHHHH!!!!" Hermione shrieked, and then there was a choking sound and then a deathly silence for several minutes, before Harry was howling in pain and rage.

"YOU KILLED HER!! YOU BASTARDS!!! YOU KILLED HER!! I-- AHHH!!"

The man smiled thinly. "Then again, it could be real. But... there is a way you can save them if you choose to accept that they're real. If not, you will listen to them die... one by one... and pray you are correct that it is all just an illusion."

"It's NOT REAL!" Ron shouted erratically, pulling against the straps again. "STOP IT! Just STOP IT! I won't believe it, your tricks won't work so just STOP IT!"

"ARTHUR!!!!!" Molly screamed.

The sound of screaming overhead intensified, and Arthur's screaming grew louder and louder, before there was a slicing noise and Molly screamed in pain.

Blood dripped down from the grate onto the boy's bare, pale stomach directly underneath. It was just water really; water that the man called Whisper had conjured for affect, but the illusion of his spell would be such that Ron would see only red blood staining his pale stomach crimson.

He bent to Ron's ear and whispered softly, "Only three more to go..."

Ron cried out in both shock and dismay. "No! No..." he moaned, breathing harsh and fast in panic and unable to even wipe the blood away... He'd been so sure but - but what if-- "What do I have to do for you to let them go?!"

The man smiled thinly. "Beg," he said softly. "Beg me to hurt you. For everything I do to you, that is one less thing done to them. Perhaps if you beg enough, they will live..."

Ron closed his eyes for a moment, face whiter than marble... but he swallowed, then started to nod. "Please," he begged, almost under his breath.

"I can't hear you," the man whispered softly. "You must speak louder, creature."

"Please!" Ron shouted.

"Please what?" he whispered, taking out the whip.

Ron's mind was reeling, but he quickly guessed, "Please -- Master."

He cracked the whip, slicing into his stomach with the fire of it.

"Beg MORE!!! Tell me how much you love the pain!" he hissed in whisper and took out his wand, pointing it at the table which suddenly electrified, sending jolts of painful electricity through his body.

The table had more than one function; there were multiple ways of torture, and Ronald Weasley would be begging for every single one by the time the night was over. Breaking him had been easy.

By dawn, he would talk... and if he didn't... he would die. But it would be a very enjoyable night until then.

Ron grimaced through a gasp. "Pl-please... I... love the pain," he obeyed, feeling sickened - and not just because his stomach had been so deeply sliced... He actually felt bile rise in his throat, but managed to force it back down.

Whisper laughed sickly and was determined that by the end of the night, he would believe it.

He whipped the redhead until he could do so no more without killing him and then moved on to more fun stuff. Ron's screams filled the night, the only real screams there had ever been, but eventually even those faded, and Voldemort, having been listening to them echo through the halls of his fortress, smiled in triumph before sleeping like a baby.

* * *

"Draco... DRACO!" Harry exclaimed, trying to stop the blond from moving on ahead. "This place is perfect! Why can't we just camp here?!" he demanded.

Draco had been finding a problem with every camp site they'd tried to pick. It was too dirty, or too small, or too big, or too open, or too SOMETHING! But Harry was tired of walking and so was Hermione, and he could tell Draco wasn't exactly in tip-top condition either, though he was trying to hide it. Harry knew the blond needed rest, as did they all, so he was hoping they could find a place to set up camp and quickly.

Apparently not.

"It's too cramped with all of these trees," Draco drawled, walking on carefully, noticeably tense and walking with a long stick in one hand to test the ground as he went.

They were being followed.

Harry frowned, not satisfied with that and rushed to catch up to the blond and walked beside him carefully. "Too cramped?" he asked and shook his head. "Draco, what's going on?" he asked pointedly. "You've had a problem with every campsite. It's almost like you don't want to stop! But you know that everyone's tired. It's already almost dark and we can't keep going like this!" he said softly, trying to reason with the blond who unfortunately knew the way when they didn't, which meant he ultimately made the final decision.

He wasn't used to anyone else being the 'leader'. He wasn't entirely sure he liked it, but it was an interesting experience. He found himself having to trust Draco and his instincts, and that was a new experience in and of itself! And he had to admit the blond had done a pretty good job of it... so far.

But why was he stalling their camping?

Draco said nothing for a moment, listening to Granger grumbling to herself as brambles caught at her ankles. Finally, he forced a thin, fake smile and said, would-be lightly, "We're being followed... and if we stop, we might die..."

Harry paused and put a hand on his arm. "Followed? What?!" he asked softly in a hiss and frowned. "Who's following us? How long have they been trailing us? And why the hell didn't you say something before?" he demanded, taking out his wand.

Draco reached over and instantly covered Harry's hand with his own, forcing him to lower the wand and stepping forward to shade it from Hermione's view, and anyone else who stood beyond her. "That is precisely why," he hissed softly, face an inch from his. "If they are unfriendly, you can bet they will attack if they suspect for even a moment that we're onto them... While we're ignorant, they linger. You can put yourself in jeopardy with your stupidity on your own time, Potter! I personally like living."

Harry frowned darkly, shaking tensely at the feel of Draco's hand on his own and his heart pounding oddly at the blond's proximity. The air felt electrified almost, and once again he felt that tingling feeling, causing goose bumps to rise on his skin.

"Fine..." Harry whispered softly, meeting Draco's gaze squarely. "Then you'll agree that it would also look suspicious if we don't stop and camp somewhere. If we keep going, determined to stumble around blindly in the dark, they will no doubt figure we're onto them and attack. And I doubt our chances would be improved at that point considering we're all exhausted," he said softly.

"So you'd hand them the chance to slaughter us in our sleep?"

"I'm not stupid, Draco," Harry said softly. "Obviously, one of us will have to be awake at all times. We can take shifts! But we can't just keep going. But I doubt they're going to attack us tonight. It would be foolish to attack in the dark and if they've been trailing us for a long time, they're no doubt as tired as we are."

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly, then let go of Harry's hand with a shove, and gestured with a mocking bow. "As you wish, Oh Chosen One."

Harry scoffed. "Thanks...Your Majesty," he retorted in quip and sighed. "But don't tell Hermione."

"Don't tell Hermione what?" the girl demanded, folding her arms in annoyance, suddenly detesting nature! She may want to preserve it, but live in it? Oh no. Stupid brambles...

"That your hair gets frizzy again with the moisture... and you look like a bushman."

"WHAT?!!!"

"No!" Harry exclaimed and smirked. "No, that's not it. He just doesn't want you to know that he's gay too!" he quipped and pointed. "I think that's a good spot over there!" he exclaimed and started walking.

Draco frowned slightly. "Oh, at least make up something plausible, Potter," he drawled sardonically, and casually aimed his wand to start a fire. "--I have no qualms about my orientation."

Harry frowned slightly. "What are you talking about? I was being a smart-ass! Or trying to be," he said hesitantly, putting their gear down and taking out the tent, before pausing. "You're saying you are?"

"Of course he is. That explains why he's so... prissy!" Hermione quipped.

Draco frowned in turn. "Not prissy!" he snapped, then looked haughty as he sat on a log and started rifling through his satchel of supplies. "And, not that it is any of your business - or of any relevance – you could say that, technically..." he added dryly.

"Technically?" Harry asked curiously as he started setting up the tent. "Isn't that like being 'technically' pregnant? I thought it was you either are... or you aren't!" he exclaimed.

"Unless you're bi," Hermione pointed out.

"And that just gets confusing I imagine," Harry said wryly.

"Not really in my experience..."

"Oh?" Harry asked curiously, eyebrows high. "How so?"

"It's not confusing," Draco drawled simply. "Not unless you try to date members of both genders at once..." He pulled his bag up onto his bony knees and fished about in it some more. "But this is hardly parlour conversation... and of moot relevance."

Hermione sighed, getting out her sleeping bag and glad when Harry finished setting up the tent. "Well... you two can talk about whatever you like! Frankly I'm exhausted and I just want to get some sleep," she said softly.

In truth, she was going to take a dreamless potion to knock her out. It would keep her from having to stay up, worrying about Ron. It had been enough of a strain to stay together all day, and for now, she just wanted to be unconscious.

"Goodnight," she bade them both, slipping into the private tent Harry had finished setting up, assuming he and Draco would sleep in the second tent which Harry was starting to put up.

"Good night..." Harry bade, looking sympathetic as she disappeared and looked at Draco thoughtfully. "What are you looking for? Something to eat? I've got some fruit bars in my bag if you're hungry."

"I'm not hungry..." Draco replied, and sighed, supposing he might have left it in the hurry. Oh well... He pulled out a lightweight black jacket in any case, as it was cold now that the darkness was closing in around them.

Draco stood up to tug the jacket on carefully over his loose grey t-shirt and black jeans, then sat down carefully on the grass nearer to the fire, resting his back against a mossy log... He idly picked up his stick again and poked at the fire he'd created. "I'll take the first watch," he drawled, supposing it was only logical. He wouldn't sleep anyway.

"You need sleep..." Harry said softly and sighed. "Besides, I'm not sleepy. I couldn't now even if I wanted to." he said softly, stretching out on the ground next to the fire as well, wrapping his cloak around him and grabbing a stick which he used to poke at the fire gently.

"Thank you, by the way," Harry said softly at last.

"I don't need sleep... And you have no reason to thank me... besides leading you to your wayward Weasley, giving you ultimately the best chance of saving him, and all without even asking for money in return for my services - which could well get me killed... In fact, I take it back, you do have reason to thank me."

Harry laughed softly in amusement. "Yes... precisely so," he said softly, smiling at Draco in amusement, before cocking his head at him curiously. "And I must admit, I didn't expect this of you. You've managed to surprise me yet again. It was one thing to discover you had a conscience. It's quite another to discover you're a good and decent human-being," he said softly.

"Ugh... please don't make me throw up my first meal in days."

Harry smiled slightly. "There you go, pretending again. You're not really put off by this! You're just embarrassed and uncomfortable. You're so used to your 'bad guy' routine, but it's too late now! I've seen right through you. Not difficult to do considering you're so skinny," he teased.

"How witty," Draco said, quirking a nonplussed eyebrow, looking at the fire again as he poked at the embers slowly and drew the jacket closer about himself with his other hand. "And I am not embarrassed or uncomfortable; I simply see no direction to this conversation. Go to sleep, Potter..."

Harry looked sympathetic and reached over for his own bag, pulling out a blanket and coming over to sit next to the blond, putting the blanket around him warmly.

"Of course... there's the other option..." he said softly.

Draco frowned a little for the blanket, but decided to ignore it rather than address the issue in any form. "What's that?"

Harry smiled wryly, leaning back against the log and bit a lip, regarding Draco almost consideringly.

"You think I'm naive; that I don't know how Death Eaters work. That's not entirely true. I've considered the possibility that this entire thing is a trap; a set up. Think about it! Ron is kidnapped, and you're conveniently here to show us the way," Harry said softly. "It would be very easy for you to lead us right into Voldemort hands to redeem yourself. You wouldn't actually have to do any killing. It would just be delivering the goods and taking credit for the brilliant plan. You pretend not to want me to go to earn my trust and make it seem like you're reluctant."

Draco quirked an eyebrow slightly, but otherwise did nothing, just poked at the fire again.

Harry shrugged slightly. "But I don't believe that," he said softly.

"Good," Draco murmured composedly.

"Did it even cross your mind?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yes," Draco said. "...Every time you start talking like this it crosses my mind and looks particularly appealing."

Harry laughed in amusement and shook his head, biting a lip. "Well... just so you know... I trust you."

"Why."

Harry smiled slightly. "You're supposed to trust your friends."

"Ah... the friends talk again..." Draco murmured wearily, setting the burnt stick aside and brushing his thin palm clean on the grass.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine then. If you're not my friend, then just what the hell are you doing here, Draco?" he asked softly. "You've lied to Snape, risked your own imprisonment again should anyone discover you missing, risked your life to lead me and Hermione to Ron, a person who means nothing to you! You could have just as easily told us where to go, drawn us a map and given us a few key pointers and sent us on our way. But you didn't. You came along to make sure we make it in there and out alive! And here I'm supposed to be your enemy, and you're risking your life... for me? For people I care about? What's that if not friendship?" he asked softly.

"I don't know... but I'm not convinced it's friendship," Draco drawled quietly, then sighed wearily, rubbing a hand briefly over his face, an oddly normal gesture, lacking poise. "But you could not have just slipped in with a few pointers in any case."

"So... you care if I live or die," Harry said softly. "I suppose that's something," he added with a sigh and leaned back, folding his arms and watched Draco wryly. "So... what's the deal then? You've been hurt?" he asked curiously. "I mean, there's got to be a reason why you don't like the idea of having friends!"

"Hurt? I haven't the faintest idea what you mean..." Draco drawled.

"Liar..." Harry said softly and his eyes softened sympathetically. "Did someone hurt you, Draco? Is... that why you're afraid to have friends? You don't want to get too close?"

Draco glared. "No one hurt me! Now mind your own business, Potter!!"

Harry reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Shhh! Calm down, Draco! It's okay. You can tell me, okay?" he assured, trying to soothe the blond's ruffled feathers. "I just want to know why you find it so hard to trust anyone! And why you make having a friend sound like poison!"

"Because it is!" Draco retorted, hesitated, and amended, "Or.. can be... I don't know," he muttered. He shrugged off the hand awkwardly.

Harry bit a lip. "Did your father tell you that?" he asked softly.

Draco scoffed quietly, almost smiling, though it was almost bitter. "Not in so many words..."

"And you believe him," Harry said softly. "Because he's just such an honest and decent person!" he said scoffingly.

Draco looked coldly at Harry for a moment, then back to the fire. "You don't understand."

"No... I don't," Harry said softly. "Maybe you should explain it to me."

"Maybe you should jump into a river."

"Do you love him?" Harry asked, ignoring the insult.

Draco tensed and paused for a minute, then clarified, "My father?"

"Yes," Harry said softly. "Do you love him? Is... that why you believe him? You're loyal to him and you want to believe what he says?"

Draco looked heaven-ward for a moment, seeing little more than branches and rustling leaves as the trees were so thick... Finally, he shifted a little to turn and face Harry, resting an elbow on the log beside him. "Do you really want to play this game, Potter?" he drawled.

"Because I don't think you really want to know me. I think you're curious, oh yes, that much is painfully evident... and I think you want to try and understand me... or you wouldn't try to get these sorts of answers from me, and you wouldn't be pitifully attempting psychology with me! But there is a world of difference between curiosity and understanding, Potter, and even if I had the inclination to clue you in, which I don't, something tells me you wouldn't like it one bit! Now, you can sit there and think I'm a poor little rich boy, who wasn't nurtured or read a bed time story enough, or you can think I'm a wannabe copy of my father and things just went horribly wrong for me... or you can think I'm a complete nutcase, I don't CARE what you think... just leave me out of this process to try and figure it out!"

Harry's green eyes glittered fiercely, resting his arm on the log in mirror of his position and narrowing his eyes at him, scoffing softly. "Is that what you tell yourself, Draco?" Harry asked softly at last after taking in his words thoughtfully. "That's your excuse for not giving an answer; that you'll scare me off and I won't like what I hear? I suppose that's your excuse for everyone. You're not afraid of being close... you're afraid of rejection!" he exclaimed and frowned slightly.

"Well... allow me to enlighten you. I'm not the naive, dainty little thing you keep making me out to be! You think I don't have a clue as to what goes on out there? I may not know specifics, but I've stared evil in the eye and I know what it's capable of! So if you think anything you can say is going to scare me off, you're sorely mistaken. And fine; you don't have to tell me anything. But that won't stop me from digging, Draco. You're my friend, whether you like it or not! You became my friend possibly the moment you knocked me out with that vase in order to protect me! And that means I'm going to keep asking these questions until I get an answer. I will nag day and night if necessary! So you're just stuck with me. Sorry if that spoils your plans. Deal with it," he said firmly.

Draco entertained a mental image; throwing Harry bodily into the bonfire... A muscle in his bony jaw worked silently.

Harry's eyes softened, seeing Draco's upset and he reached over to adjust the blanket over is bony body gently. "It's not so bad, Draco," he said. "You might find you like having friends. You won't be lonely anymore at least."

"I'm not lonely," Draco muttered quietly. "I like being by myself..." It was safe.

"No..." Harry said softly with conviction. "No one truly wants to be alone. I suppose you can get used to being alone. It's comfortable after a time. Believe it or not, I do know what that feels like. I never really had friends until I came to Hogwarts! I didn't have much of anything. But it's nice being able to depend on other people," he said softly and smiled slightly. "Though I'm sure you find it terrifying... the thought of depending on anyone else for anything. I'll try not to prove a disappointment to you," he said seriously.

"Okay, I can see that you're talking... but all I hear is 'blah-blah-blah-blah-blah'," Draco drawled composedly, raising a bone-thin hand for the talking action.

Harry laughed. "See? I still find you amusing!" he exclaimed, moving to shift and sit next to the blond, almost hip to hip but with some space in between for comfort, though Harry shivered slightly despite the cloak. "In any case, you don't have to worry about scaring me off with details about your past, Draco. You can tell me anything you feel like at any time. I won't run away."

Draco said nothing, but took the blanket off his lap and placed it around Harry's shoulders in a dismissive sort of gesture, before folding his arms over his chest and staring at the fire.

"My sister died when I was six," he said bluntly. "My father had her murdered."

Harry gasped in shock, looking at Draco sharply in horror. "What?!" he asked softly in horror. "Oh my god... You - you had a sister?! I - I've never heard anything about that! He had her murdered?! But why?! Why would he do that? His own daughter?! The sick bastard!!! You must have been heart-broken!!!" he exclaimed.

Draco shifted, folding his arms tighter, and furrowing his brows. "We were too attached to each other... I was supposed to be focused on my training and as she was of little use to him and served as a distraction, he arranged it. I was told she died in a carriage collision."

Harry looked pained and his eyes filled in sympathy as he reached over and placed a hand on one of his bony arms in comfort, this explaining a lot and actually answering his question from earlier.

"Oh Draco... I'm so terribly sorry..." he whispered softly. "I know that doesn't change anything saying that! I can't imagine what you must have gone through, losing her like that. And you weren't too attached to each other!" he said almost bitterly. "That - that sick fuck just wanted to hurt you!! To keep you from learning how to care for people! It's disgusting!" he exclaimed in disgust and swallowed thickly. "How did you deal with it?"

Draco moved until Harry's hand withdrew, then stood and paced away. "Oh, the usual... drugs, drink... slept around..."

"You were six," Harry said dryly.

Draco looked around, forcing a wry, thin smile. "Yes, that's right... Hence why that was a joke," he explained clearly, sitting down on the log next to his bag, and giving it another careful rummage.

"What are you looking for?" Harry asked.

Draco didn't answer, instead shaking the bag a bit and checking other pockets... Finally, he stilled and withdrew a small oval frame, no more than the size of his palm.

"Here," he murmured, coming back to his previous position and hesitantly offering the picture. "It's the only image I had of her."

Harry took the picture in his hands and couldn't help but smile at the image of the little girl, no older than five, platinum blond hair the same colour as Draco's, grey eyes wide and innocent. She wore a string of pearls around her neck which were too big for her. The picture was in black and white so Harry couldn't see all her colouring, but he guessed she was as pale as Draco and was frankly quite adorable.

"She was beautiful..." Harry said softly, holding the precious picture for several moments, before carefully handing it back, silently honoured that Draco had shown him.

Draco hummed quietly, looking down at the small frame as he nodded. "Yes... she was."

Harry's eyes softened sadly. "So... I was wrong. You do know what it's like to love someone," he said softly.

Draco shrugged bony shoulders beneath the jacket and shirt. "Not anymore," he drawled. "And Demora doesn't count... She wasn't another person, she was my other half."

Harry frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Draco kept staring at the picture, features blank and impassive. "We were twins..."

Harry gasped softly, and his eyes filled with tears all over again at this shocking news. "Twins?" he breathed softly. "You - you had a twin?! I--" he cut off, swallowing thickly, knowing that made it ten times as worse.

He couldn't help but reach over and silently try to hug the blond after that, clinging to him and trying to comfort him.

Draco flinched... and squirmed a little, but the hug was too tight to disengage himself from, so he eventually just forced himself to weather it, sitting still in the embrace, not returning it but not pulling out of it either...

"Draco, that's horrible!" Harry whispered shakily. "You must have been devastated!" he exclaimed. "Did you have one of those - those twin connection things?" he asked, knowing Fred and George seemed to have that. They could finish each other's sentences practically!

"I don't remember," Draco answered honestly.

Harry pulled back after a moment, looking pained and sympathetic still and handing the blanket back to Draco, feeling like he needed it now more than him and wrapped him in it almost fussily.

"I guess that answers my question about whether or not you love your father. I - I can't imagine you loving someone who did that to your twin," he said softly.

"Mmm," was all Draco offered to that. He felt oddly drained. He also couldn't help but wonder what had compelled him to be so... honest... all of a sudden. It was unnerving...

Harry smiled shakily, glad Draco had confided in him... shocked and humbled by the trust... and truly feeling that they'd made progress! Draco had taken the first step, even if he didn't know it.

"You look tired," Harry said softly. "Are you sure you don't want to try and catch some sleep? I can take the first watch. You're the one who was stuck in jail, remember?"

"Vividly," said Draco, then sighed. "Alright..." This would be a bad idea, but who knew - perhaps he was tired enough not to dream for once? Worth a shot... He sat up straighter, preparing himself for a stand.

Harry bit a lip. "Are you going to sleep in the tent or out here?"

"I'll hazard the tent," Draco answered, standing and taking the first blanket with him. He hesitated, then murmured, "Between us, Potter, yes?" for confirmation.

Harry smiled shakily and nodded. "Always," he assured softly.

Draco nodded a little, almost in thanks, or respect, then went into the tent and zipped it up halfway, lying down on one of the sleeping bags and completely unable to sleep...

* * *

Some distance away, Demora put another log on the fire, poking at it gently, almost hesitantly, having just finished putting up the tent and the net that they'd gotten to keep insects out. She smiled as Rowan sprayed the air, even though she hadn't encountered that many flies and bugs so far. Just your usual ground bugs and fireflies!

He was very paranoid and kept cleaning his hands every five minutes. But he was holding up remarkably well considering the circumstances, and she was secretly quite proud of him.

"Okay! Tent's up, fire's going. I'll make us some of that soup, okay? Just relax, Rowan!" she tried to console gently.

"This isn't sanitary... this isn't sanitary," Rowan repeated softly to himself, giving the air another spray, inhaling some of it unfortunately, thanks to his rapid breathing, and coughing and spluttering for it. He wiped down a drink bottle and then raised it to sip hastily.

"Of course it's sanitary!" Demora assured, knowing if she gave any credence to his paranoia it would only make it worse. "We've got everything, Rowan! The spray will keep bugs away, all our plates are new and sanitary thanks to those charms! And what's more healthy than cooking over an open fire the way nature intended?" she tried to reason, smiling as she heated some soup, deciding she would enjoy this.

Demora was the type to enjoy new experiences. She was passionate about life in general, so even if this was slightly inconvenient and she was dressed in non-designer jeans (ugh) and a simple (but still fashionable!) black blouse, she was determined to try and make the best of it. For Rowan's sake if nothing else!

Rowan reluctantly sat down on a blanket Demora had laid down so he didn't have to sit on the grass. Even on the blanket, he was vigilant as to whether any creepy crawlies were invading the haven of the blanket-space... The spray rested to his left and his satchel holding all of his belongings and clothes from home was clutched to his right side.

"This isn't a good idea. Not a good idea..." he murmured, taking and letting out a couple of deep breaths, knowing he was irrational but just unable to do anything about it. The worst part was he knew Demora was trying very hard to make this easier on him...

Demora looked sympathetic and left the soup to cook on the fire as she came over to sit on the blanket next to him and reached over to get behind him and start massaging his shoulders expertly in a gentle, lulling motion.

"Shh... just relax, okay?" she soothed. "There's nothing out here! You scared all the bugs away, I promise! Well... accept for me, of course," she tried to tease.

Rowan tried to attempt a smile, but it was weak. His shoulders and neck always carried the brunt of his tension, so he winced a bit as she started expertly working the muscles... until he gradually began to relax. This alone was nearly worth the trauma of going into the men's.

Demora kept massaging, just to make him feel better and was glad when he started to relax and sighed heavily.

"I know it's hard, Rowan. I'll find some way to pay you back for this later, I swear," she said softly and her grey eyes went slightly distant. "It's just... if it's really him... I can't let him go. I don't think I could survive losing him twice," she said softly, and leaned her chin on his shoulder for a moment in thought as she hugged him gently from behind, still working his opposite shoulder a little.

Rowan tilted his head a little towards hers and raised a hand to gently hold onto the free arm she had wrapped around his front. "I know," he murmured. "Yeah, I know..." He kissed what he could reach of her closest cheek, and managed a more convincing smile, which did a lot to clear the shadows in his pale face. "Sorry I'm being a pain," he apologised wryly.

Demora frowned slightly. "You're not a pain! And don't start talking like that," she said softly. "If anyone's the pain in this family, it's me! Always have been. You wanted a dog, and instead you got a huge thorn in your side."

"That's true," Rowan conceded with a humble smile. "Still remember trying to make you drink from the dog bowl."

Demora laughed. "That was funny!" she exclaimed. "And of course, I just thought it was some kind of game! I'd never been in a place like that before in my life! I could wear what I like and the fact I was being allowed to just eat and drink any time I wanted was amazing. If I had to drink out of dog bowl, that was fine by me! Mother threw a fit though!" she exclaimed with a gleam in her eye, though it had faded slightly as she remembered that initial time.

She had been young and confused, taken from her mother, who had been strict about diet, strict about sleep, strict about clothes, strict about everything! Cold and cruel and refined, and Demora, even at six, had secretly disliked her. It hadn't gotten to hate yet, but she wouldn't have been surprised if it would have eventually.

In any case, the Chambers' home had been full of love, laughter and gentleness, something she'd never known before. And Rowan... dear Rowan... had been her rock, even more so than her parents in some ways. He'd gotten her through the worst of her grief, and there was nothing in this world like a depressed six year old who would burst into tears at random for no reason.

She'd had the opportunity to return the favour recently, for which she was grateful. She still felt like she owed Rowan and his family so much, so any opportunity to pay them back, she tired to take.

Rowan seemed to know what she was thinking of instinctively, and turned enough to hug her properly in comfort for them, stroking her pale hair.

Demora turned to the hug instinctively and buried her face in his shoulder for comfort, hating herself for her own weakness. A part of her had never forgotten her birth mother's instruction.

"Never show weakness. Never show even a hint of emotion! You must be poised and elegant and in control at all times," she had stated coldly in disapproval when Demora had cried and begged to see her twin after almost a week of being separated. It had hurt to be apart for any length of time, almost as if there was this invisible string trying to pull them and tie them together.

But she wasn't able to keep that instruction now as she clung to Rowan back and sighed, letting herself be soothed by the stroking of her blond hair.

"I should be comforting you..." she said softly, almost mutinously.

Rowan chuckled very softly. "What makes you say that? I think it's your turn..."

"Not really..." Demora said softly, turning to rest her head on his shoulder and look up at him sadly, gently extending a hand to soothe back some of his dark hair. "My life is a picnic compared to yours, Rowan."

"Gee... that's reassuring..."

"You know what I mean..." she said wincingly. "I just..." she trailed, swallowing thickly, her eyes going briefly haunted. "I worry... about you," she said tensely. "I don't want to lose you either. "

Rowan sighed softly, shifting a bit so he sat at a little distance from her on the blanket. "Don't, Dora..."

Demora frowned slightly. "Well, I'm sorry! I can't help it!" she exclaimed, standing up and going to get their soup, ladling some in bowls and bringing it back over to him. He didn't have the best appetite, but their mother was very forceful about him eating and so she was determined to be as well. "How can I not worry about that?" she asked softly as she settled back on the blanket.

"Because I tell you not to?" Rowan suggested, and rolled his eyes. "And I don't want to eat out here! My stomach's squirming enough as it is..."

"You need to eat, Rowan," Demora said sternly. "Or do you want me to tell Mother you were refusing the eat the entire way?"

"This isn't the entire way..." Rowan argued, putting the soup aside. "And I ate earlier, I'm hardly wasting away.."

Demora frowned in disapproval and started eating her own soup. "Well... at least try to eat something tomorrow then. I wonder where they're going? You said that Harry Potter was with them?" she asked incredulously. "My twin is friends with Harry Potter?! How amazing is that, right? So is he cute?"

"In a bony, blondish sort of way, I guess."

"Not him!" she exclaimed with a slight frown. "And he's not bony! He's just... not fat. And I was talking about Harry Potter! You know how some people look great in pictures but they've been made up to look like that and are completely horrid in person."

"Oh, him... Yeah, he's good-looking," Rowan supposed, before adding, "And you do realise how very secure in my masculinity I must be to be talking like this with you, right?"

Demora chuckled softly, glad to have distracted him from the previous unpleasant topic. "True. Very true! But then again, you've never failed to tell me when you thought my boyfriends are ugly. In fact, you've never failed to tell me what was precisely wrong with each and every single one of them! I can't keep a man around you. You scare them off!" she said with a frown.

"Yup... I'm your boyfriend scarecrow..." Rowan said lightly, and pulled a bottle of tablets from his jeans pocket and tapped a few out.

Demora watched him take the pills, counting them carefully and trying to look as though she wasn't watching him carefully, but she was. She somehow always managed to be around him when it was time to take him. That wasn't coincidence; she didn't believe in coincidence. She made sure it was so. It was easy since Rowan was more dependent on her and her mother now.

It had been a difficult change to deal with, seeing Rowan go from being carefree and free-spirited to timid and clingy. It had broken her heart in all honesty, and so she'd easily slipped into a dominant role to help give him the security he needed, and also to make sure he didn't do anything stupid... again.

She silently shuddered in memory and passed him some water so he could take them more easily.

"Thanks," Rowan said softly, sipping at the water so he could take one... two... three of his prescription pills. Two for anxiety, one anti-depressant.

She counted as well... carefully... and satisfied there were three and watched closely as he put the bottle away. Only then, when those hateful pills were put away, did the tension in her thin shoulders noticeably ease and she reached for a quill and her notebook, deciding to write in her diary a bit and maybe finish that poem she'd been working on. She was a natural writer and in fact planned to become a famous novelist and travel the world someday! Maybe... She wasn't quite sure yet. But she did enjoy writing.

"So where do you think they're headed? You know this area better than I do. What's around here that's remotely interesting and worth all this trouble?" she asked, always planning for the next move, but in truth, this was the first time she'd been to England since she was six.

"Mmm... not sure. I think there's a town somewhere not too far East of here but... looks like they're going South so... who knows?" Rowan said quietly. In truth, it had been a long time since he'd been here. He'd been just eight when they moved away from Hogsmeade to Paris.

She nodded silently. "Okay..." she conceded softly and sighed. "We should send an owl to Mother in the morning; let her know we're okay. You know she worries," she suggested.

In truth, their mother worried about Rowan. She knew Demora could, for the most part, take care of herself.

"Yeah, good idea..." Rowan said quietly, thinking along the exact same lines... "This is probably-" he began, then cut off and sprayed an ant that was too close to the blanket, before continuing, "-the longest I've been away from home since..."

Demora nodded, biting a lip. "And... you're okay? I mean... you're with me! So obviously you're fine," she said indignantly. "But... seriously though, you're alright?"

Rowan nodded tensely. "Oh, sure... I'm good. Perfectly relaxed..." he said, then screamed and stood up quickly when a large grasshopper jumped onto his shoulder. He started running round and trying to shake it off...

Demora stood up quickly and ran to him. "Rowan! ROWAN! Hold still! Let me get it!!" she exclaimed and reached for the offending insect, tossing it down and soothing his shoulder. "It's okay, Rowan! Calm down! It's gone!"

Rowan didn't have enough wet wipes in the world, and was having a full-blown panic attack within seconds, gasping breathlessly and shaking.

Shit, shit, SHIT!!

Demora always hated these and there was only one way to get him to calm down when he was like this! She dragged him over to the blanket and forced him to lay down, pinning him with an effort and taking out her wand, casting cleansing charms and soothing his hair and knowing she'd just have to hold him down until this passed.

"Calm down, Rowan! Just calm - down! Look! Look, the bug is gone, okay? And I'm casting the charms!!! You're not dirty, okay? Listen to me, Rowan! Listen to my voice!!" she called firmly. Usually it was their mother who did this, forcing Rowan to lay down and stay still, cleansing him with charms and trying to get him to talk and see reason. But she'd done it enough times to know that it took time and a lot of patience...

Rowan kept rasping and hitching his strained breaths, slim chest rising and falling harshly with the efforts to get enough air in the throws of his panic. He didn't attempt more than the odd incoherent stutter, clinging to the sound of her voice just as he usually clung to his mother's... desperately trying to gain control.

"Everything is fine, Rowan. You're safe, alright? You're not dirty! You're perfectly clean! All it did was touch your sleeve, not your skin, alright?" Demora tried to reason with him, continuing to soothe his hair and hold him down firmly as she took out some liquid anti-bacterial wash and grabbed one of his hands, gently massaging the cleansing fluid into it.

"That's it; just breathe! Try and breathe slowly and deeply. Close your eyes and try to pretend we're back home, alright? And we're camping out in the back garden like we used to do when we were little. Remember that nice hammock you had back there that we'd both fall asleep in? Pretend we're in that... and there are no bugs or dirt or anything..."

Rowan closed his eyes and gradually breathed slower, deep breaths... shaky but stable... He swallowed a few times, then opened his eyes wincingly and nodded. "Okay... I'm okay now..." he murmured.

Demora looked strained, cupping his cheek worriedly and soothing his hair with her other hand. "Are you sure?" she asked softly.

Rowan nodded and sat up slowly with an effort, still a bit shaky. He drew and let out a deep breath, holding a hand to his chest, feeling his heart racing a mile a minute.

Demora swallowed thickly and reached over to hug him tightly, shaking herself now, always unnerved by his panic attacks and frankly quite worried about him.

Rowan wrapped his arms weakly about her, drained but hugging her back earnestly. "Shh... I'm sorry - I'm sorry, okay?" he murmured, stroking her hair down, feeling hideously guilty.

"No... no, not your fault. This is my fault!" Demora exclaimed shakily. "I dragged you out here into the bloody wilderness to chase someone ridiculously who claims he doesn't even have a sister!" she exclaimed, feeling twice as guilty. "We should be in a hotel... with room service! I'm so sorry..."

Rowan shook his head, rubbing her back gently. "No... no, I'm s-sorry. It's not right... it's not normal! Ugh, I'm such a mess!" he drew back with frustration.

Demora sighed heavily. "Yeah..." she agreed softly, looking sad. "But it's not your fault, Rowan. And - and you've come a long way!"

Rowan sighed softly. "Yeah... well done me..." he murmured, unenthused, and stood up with only a slight wobble. "Think I'll lie down," he murmured.

Demora nodded. "Yeah... me too. I need to get changed anyway. We should probably get some sleep! It's getting late."

Rowan nodded slightly, bumped a kiss against her cheek lightly as he passed, and went into the tent.

Demora sighed heavily, going over to grab her bag and slipped into her nightgown, which consisted of a knee length silk shirt, leaving her legs bare. She added wood to the fire, enough so it would burn hopefully for several more hours, and then made her way back into the tent, smiling as she saw him stretched out on his sleeping bag.

She got out her own and sat down on it, taking her long blond hair to start plaiting it and bit a lip. "I'm going to cast a charm to wake us early," she said softly. "I don't want them to get too far ahead," she explained, and once finished with her hair, settled in her sleeping back and closed her eyes. "Goodnight, Rowan..."

"Goodnight," Rowan said softly in return, casting a lumos charm on his wand to give them a little nightlight, before curling up on his side and drifting asleep.

Demora turned on her side as well, looking out the small window of the tent and seeing the stars through the trees, finding the constellation called Draco and smiling up at it.

"Goodnight, Draco..." she whispered softly and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep...

* * *

Authors Note: As always, if you've read and if you like, please review to let me know. How are the new original characters? Was the torture graphic enough/too graphic? And most importantly, is it worth the effort it takes me to keep posting this? xxx 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Nothing's mine... HP is JK's. Only Rowan and Demora can I claim as mine and Vi's.

Authors Notes: Thank you for reviewing. 3 xx

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes**

-Chapter Six-

* * *

The forest had changed. The further south they went, the darker it seemed to get, even though it was completely light outside. The trunks of the trees seemed to twist and gnarl into horrible, shadowy designs, and the sound of the forests... the birds, the bees, the animals... grew quiet and still.

Only the rustling of the wind dared to disturb the silence, the distant sound of leaves brushing against each other echoing into the dark woods. It was colder here, and Harry felt his scar start to burn. His wand was drawn now, as was Draco's and Hermione's.

They were close... Harry could feel the evil and knew they were close...

Draco led the way carefully and Harry and Hermione followed closely, stepping where he stepped, ducking behind the trees he ducked behind. They moved like wraiths, silent and quick, and Harry had his invisibility cloak in his backpack, ready to be used should it prove necessary.

"How much farther?" Harry whispered in Draco's ear from directly behind him as they paused behind a large tree to get their bearings and check to make sure there were no Death Eaters up ahead.

The hair on the back of Draco's neck prickled, something he attributed to the cold, and he nodded ahead, "Just through that clump of trees... I can see part of the wall..." he whispered.

He was tense and focused, almost intense... but it was all born out of fear; fear harnessed into lucid thought and careful precision... He had never thought to see this place again...

"Okay... so what's the plan then?" Harry asked softly. "Would we, umm... be better helped if we were invisible? Or can we slip in without being seen?"

Draco thought for a moment, staring through the dim foliage to the dark-grey, nearly black, stone wall... "Put the cloak on Granger. Just in case. If I have my way, we won't be seen..."

"Just me?" Hermione asked softly, reaching to unzip Harry's backpack and take it out. "And how did you know about it anyway?" she asked, frankly unnerved. There was a change between those two, as though they shared some kind of... secret. They were more easy together, more... close. It was odd to see and she wasn't used to taking orders from Draco and having Harry so easily agree with them!

"We can slip under it with you if necessary," Harry explained, getting the general idea. "And of course he knows." he said with a small smirk. "Not too hard to figure out how my head got in Hogsmeade, is it, Draco?" he asked wryly.

"No... not too hard," Draco drawled softly, glancing over a bony shoulder briefly, then tugged his satchel over his head to cross his chest and make it harder to lose. "Okay... time to go then..." he murmured, and turned to look at them levelly.

"Alright, if I raise my hand like this-" he raised it palm-out, "-it means stop. If I raise it and wave forwards, it means move... If I drop to the floor, you drop. If I press to the wall, you do... Step where I step, only breathe if you feel it absolutely necessary. I am not in the least bit joking... One wrong step and we will die."

Hermione looked dry. "Thanks for that motivating speech."

Harry looked wry. "Motivating or not, I wouldn't doubt it. We'll do it, Draco," he assured.

"Good," Draco said, and smiled sardonically at Hermione. "And so sorry I'm not taking the sappy team spirit approach to direction, Granger... but something told me you'd appreciate being alive more than getting a gold star and a compliment!"

"Actually, no..." Harry said with amusement. "She'd prefer a good grade! Think of it this way, Herm... we live, we get top marks! We die... we fail all our exams."

"Now that is motivation!" she said indignantly.

Draco looked nonplussed. "We're going to die," he said, with resignation, and turned and carefully led the way through the last hundred yards of wood and between two thick stone walls into a corridor.

Harry followed closely, carefully stepping where Draco stepped, frowning as he found it hard to see where they were going in the dark alley, but Draco seemed to know.

"It's quiet..." Harry whispered softly.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Hermione whispered from behind him.

Draco raised his wand, the tip of which was softly lit, and shook his head slowly. "No..." he murmured. "It really isn't."

If there weren't screams, the chances of finding people alive was a great deal less. Draco ought to know, he'd had to work here...

The corridor was very narrow, only one person wide at the entrance, just a sliver between two parts of the fortress. A heavy oak door to their right led directly to the dungeons... sort of a back way... Once there had been powerful wards guarding that small corridor between the two portions of fortress, but they'd worn away with time and weather (and a little ward-breaking he'd done last year)...

Draco tried the door, and managed to force the large, old-fashioned lock with his wand tip, allowing them entry to a cramped spiral staircase.

He paused a few steps down, actually considering telling them to wait in the staircase while he checked the cells because if there was no screaming, they might find something neither of them wished to see... but he shook his head free of the thought. He wasn't their babysitter! His job was to get them in here, and get them out... he'd go no extra length to save their feelings when he was already risking his own neck.

Harry followed Draco closely down the winding staircase and did his best not to vomit at the smell of blood and death and Merlin only knew what else. As they descended and found themselves in the cell area, Harry started looking around carefully, noticing dead bodies or some that weren't dead but were obviously on their way there...

"These poor people..." Harry whispered shakily, and his stomach twisted in fear, now understanding what Draco meant when he said the silence was bad.

Draco was tense but showed no emotion. "Mm," was all he replied with, then started to walk down towards a line of doors that led into more private arenas of torture. "If he is here... he's through one of those doors."

Harry winced softly. "Why do I get the feeling that's not the V.I.P room of prisoners?" he asked softly.

"In a sense, it is..." Draco murmured stoically. "As your best friend, a blood traitor and of some sort of importance... he gets the worst they have to offer."

He left it at that, having a bad inkling, and strode carefully forward, being sure not to step on the trick steps, to the first of the line of doors. Nothing was inside, just a few old bones... In the second room there lay a bleeding man sobbing into the wall he was pressed against in fear.

"Oh my god..." Hermione whispered softly. "Shouldn't we help him?! The poor man!" she exclaimed shakily.

Draco closed the door again and locked it stoically. "No... there's nothing to be done," he said logically, and moved on to the next door to peer inside.

A blond girl, of about four or five, was curled up on the floor, a cut over one eye and a shoulder, but looking otherwise physically unharmed. Draco knew appearances were deceiving, and knew from the look in her eyes what had been happening to her... had seen it before... But she wasn't dying or crazy, just traumatised, terrified and hopeless... and looking so much like Demora that it made him ache in memory...

For a moment, it looked like he was going to step back and close the door again, then he muttered a swearword and entered, going over to her and dropping his satchel at his side. She cringed in dread, but he knelt down and dabbed at her head cut with a cloth almost tenderly, a simple gesture without words that he knew would get through to her faster than any assurance from his lips.

"Go on and find him!" he barked at the two Gryffindors, humiliated by the way they were staring at him. "I'll catch up."

Harry could only stare for several moments, his eyes pained because he knew now what Draco had been thinking. He knew the blond was seeing his sister, remembering her, and his compassion was surprising, but not so much anymore. It just confirmed he was right all along, and something twisted in Harry's chest, but he ignored it, knowing they needed to get out of there... and fast.

"Come on," he said softly to Hermione and led her down the hall towards another cell, opening it and finding a dead body... being eaten by maggots.

Harry decided he'd never eat again.

But the next cell held more horrors than even that as they entered and found Ronald Weasley, only not in any way they had ever seen him before.

Ron was stripped naked except for his boxers (which had been returned), and while he wasn't particularly bruised, he was bleeding all over, his white skin stained dark red from it. Harry could see multiple lashes and cuts across his pale skin, and in his sides were gaping, burning holes where he had been stabbed with hot rods of iron. He was unconscious, and nailed to the wall by his hands like a sacrifice.

Harry could only stare in horror.

Hermione tried to stifle her sob, but thankfully, Harry's hand came around her mouth to stifle it and she turned and buried her face in his shoulder, making soft, pitiful gasping attempts to contain her horror. Thankfully, someone else in a cell not far away had been screaming so it drowned it out.

"Is - is he dead?" she breathed shakily, surprised she could even speak.

Harry shook his head, holding her tightly for a long time until he was sure she wouldn't give them away and extracted himself from her, coming over to his friend on surprisingly steady legs, his mind for once taking over since his heart was hurting too much to lead him just now.

He reached up with a shaking hand, tears falling silently and unnoticed down his face as he reached up to feel Ron's neck, terrified of what he'd find, knowing now that his friend's heart wasn't the best, and he found it difficult to believe someone could survive this, even with the best of hearts.

Miraculously, there was a pulse, faint and almost hesitant, but present.

"Not yet..." Harry whispered shakily and sprung into action. "We have to get him down. Undo that nail! Quickly!" he whispered urgently, going over to Ron's hand and pulling on the large iron nail that was dug into his palm.

Hermione reached for the other nail, pulling it out with some effort and as Harry pulled the other one out almost at the same time, Ron flopped forward and almost fell on her, his body like ice and she didn't have to be a doctor to know he was fading fast.

"Harry... we have to hurry!" she exclaimed shakily.

The jolt of movement wracked the fragile redhead's frame with pain, which in turn sparked a little awareness. He felt his back touch cold floor after almost falling on something warm... His eyes flickered half-open automatically... and his hands, which were bleeding profusely now, twitched a bit with pain.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, bending down next to his friend, seeing his half-open eyes and Harry reached over to soothe his hair, bending next to his friend. "Ron... oh god... it's okay! It's alright, mate...we're going to get you out of here, okay? I'm sorry... I'm so sorry!" he apologized brokenly, his breaths hitching in painful tears as he saw Ron's pain and wished it had been him instead.

Ron's blurry vision gave him a distorted image at best, but he heard the voice... and knew the voice anywhere...

"Harry...?" he whispered, looking paler than ever between the streaks of blood on his face. He barely seemed to breathe, chest just moving with the shallowest of gentle breaths...

Harry looked pained and nodded, reaching over to cup the one cheek that wasn't cut horribly and nodded. "Yes, Ron. I'm here. I'm right here, okay? I came to get you out of here. I'll always come for you; you know that, right? Everything's going to be okay..."

"I'm... so-rry..." Ron managed to breathe, less than a whisper, expression twisting weakly with strain. "I... tried..."

Harry frowned slightly. "Sorry?" he asked softly. "For what?" he asked.

But he didn't have to wait for an answer. The sound of a door slamming and footsteps approaching had him tensing. "Someone's here! We have to get out of here!! Hermione, run! Warn Draco!" he bade, trying to lift Ron up.

Hermione nodded, standing to do just that... but her way was blocked by four men in cloaks wearing white masks. They moved quickly like lightning, grabbing Hermione first and using her as leverage, one of the figures taking out a knife and putting it to her throat, preventing Harry from attacking in defence.

"Harry, run! Get Ron out of here!!" Hermione protested, not caring if he slit her throat. Just let Ron and Harry be safe!

"Quiet, Hermione!!" Harry shouted. "This is all your fault anyway, you know! If you hadn't been so stupid as to not guard the door like I asked you too, this wouldn't have happened! I hope you do get your throat slit!" he snapped tensely, holding the wand defensively, and meeting Hermione's eyes directly, pleading with her to understand, which he was sure she did. She was a smart girl after all..

Hermione was shocked by Harry's outburst at first, but understanding dawned and she glared back.

"MY fault?! It was YOUR fault! If you hadn't been so stupid as to delay, we could have been out of here by now!" she snapped, straining against the man who held her, and noticing the confusion in the Death Eater's eyes as the two friends went at each other, looking like they wanted to kill each other more than anything. She waited though until he had retracted the knife just a bit, before she nodded to Harry.

She kicked the man holding her and twisted out of his grasp. grabbing a nearby torch and burning him in the arm, making him recoil in pain.

Harry used the opportunity to attack the man holding Ron, casting a charm to flay him back and grabbed Ron, tossing him at Hermione, who caught him. "Go. GO!!! GET OUT NOW!!!" he snapped, urging them to the door and drawing his wand on the two remaining death eaters to hold them back while Hermione made a run for it with Ron.

A third death eater, who was actually one of the guards and had heard the commotion, came up from behind Harry and put a wand in his back.

"Don't... move..."

Harry sighed heavily, deciding this was not his day.

He lowered his wand, and the three death eaters guided him out of the jail roughly, up towards what Harry could only describe as a throne room. His eyes widened in dismay to see Draco already there, being flanked by two death eaters and looking like he'd been in a scuffle himself.

But it was the man in the throne who commanded all of Harry's attention... if you could call him a man... and Harry's eyes flashed green in rage and defiance as he was guided further into the room.

Voldemort stood as soon as Harry was brought into the room and smiled thinly under his cloak.

"Well... look who is right on time..." he hissed evilly. "We've been expecting you, Harry. Your friend was kind enough to let us know you were coming," he said and laughed evilly. "You are so predictable! And you have brought me a gift as well I see..." he said and turned to Draco, looking at him coldly. "A traitor among us. You've disappointed me for the last time..."

Draco's face was oddly pale, even for him, but he lacked expression as he agreed, "Yes, I suspect so, Master." He'd be dead in a minute, so yes, he probably would never disappoint him again.

"Don't call him that!" Harry snapped tensely. "He's not your Master. He's no one's Master," he said bitterly.

Voldemort stiffened. "SILENCE!!!" he shouted. "You will hold your tongue or I will show you the meaning of PAIN!! You will come to fear me, Potter. Long before you die, you will tremble at my name and call me Master!! You will BEG me for death!"

"I will beg you to shut the FUCK up!" Harry snapped.

There was a collective gasp as everyone in the room held their breath, for no one in their memory had every dared to speak to the Dark Lord in such a manner. And most were too fearful to even attempt it.

The Dark Lord looked equally as stunned for a moment and shook with rage and outrage. How dare... how DARE he speak to him that way! HIM!!!!! It angered him that he was unable to intimidate, that even after all the boy had seen him do to his friend, he wasn't the least bit contrite.

"CRUCIO!!!!" the dark lord shouted, pointing at the brunette with his harshest, most hated curse.

Harry fell to his knees in pain, the curse emanating from Voldemort's wand in a painful beam of magic. But even as Harry writhed, something odd happened...

Control. He felt it, latched onto it like a lifeline, and through the pain, he used it, and turned the power that was being used against him back on itself. He didn't understand how, but it was as if a part of him could tap into Voldemort's power, as though they were connected, and he raised his eyes to meet Voldemort's.

The moment he did, the man suddenly howled in pain, as the very curse he had cast on Harry backfired against him, until he broke it instinctively.

Harry rose to his feet, gasping and shaking from the pain, and frankly quite stunned... at himself! How had he done that?!

Voldemort wondered the same thing, having reared back in pain from his own spell, and his red eyes flashed angrily as there was stunned silence in the room. Power radiated from both of them... equal power... and Voldemort shook in rage at being defied... and momentarily defeated.

"YOU WILL PAY FOR THAT!!! YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS WILL PAY DEARLY FOR THAT POTTER!!!!!"

"Funny, you're talking but... all I hear is... blah-blah-blah-blah-blah!" Harry said shakily, smiling shakily at Draco as he repeated his friend's words in mock of Voldemort.

Voldemort would have turned red if he were capable. "KILL THEM!!!!! I WANT THEM TO DIE SLOWLY!!!!" he ordered.

"My Lord!!" a voice shouted and a cloaked figure not much taller than Harry himself came out of the ranks. "Give them to me, my Lord, and I shall make them pay in blood for this disgrace! I am new to your order, eager to prove myself... and I'll make these DOGS sorry for being insolent in YOUR glorious presence," he bowed low.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes darkly. "Who are you? I don't know you!"

"I am your most faithful..." the death eater bowed low again. "Let me prove myself to you! I am anxious to spill their blood for you, my Lord!"

Voldemort looked considering for a moment and smiled thinly. "Very well then. I will give them to you... for now. But leave Potter alive for me! And make sure Malfoy is dead, do you understand? Dead!" he exclaimed. "And when you are finished with him, track down that girl and the Diviner. I want them killed as well."

The figure bowed low again. "Yes, my Lord, whatever you say shall be done, oh great one..." he grovelled, and went over to the teenagers and grasped them harshly by the arms. "Come with me, vermin!" he spat, taking them out of the room and down the corridors towards the dungeons again.

Harry didn't struggle, deciding to save his strength for the appropriate time. There was something about this person's voice though... something which had Harry on edge.

He started to struggle as they made their way past the cells. "You've chosen a pathetic side, just so you know!" he spat as tried to wrestle his arm out of his grasp. "He's nothing but a half-blood like me, only he pretends to be superior to everyone else!!! Your precious Dark Lord isn't capable of conquering a tea party, then alone a country!"

"Wow, okay... you've convinced me," Rowan said dryly, shaking the hood off his head and winking a blue eye. "Come on - this way! Let's get out of here..."

Harry paled starkly. "Ro-Rowan?!" he asked shakily in shock, recognizing the young man from the restaurant. "You - What are you doing here?! How - how did you get in there?! You're a Death Eater?!"

Rowan shook his head. "No, but I did do a little drama in school!" he retorted, and shed the cloak, putting it back where he'd found it on the way in, and hurried down the alleyway towards the woods again, Harry and Draco behind him.

Harry exited the alleyway and paled as he saw Hermione and some blond girl kneeling next to Ron on the ground.

Demora glanced up as she saw Harry approaching. "I've done what I can for him, but he's lost a lot of blood," she said softly and for once didn't look at Draco, but at the brunette. "He'll die if he doesn't get medical attention and quickly," she stated simply.

Harry looked oddly stricken and strained. "Well... gee, thanks for softening the blow!"

"Softening the blow won't save his life, nor will it change the facts," she replied, putting a potion to the redhead's lips and forcing him to drink in hopes of keeping him stable.

Hermione looked at Harry worriedly. "You should take him to Snape," she said softly. "Dumbledore went to him when he was severely injured that one time, remember? I think he can help. St. Mungo's is just too far!"

Ron started to shake.

"Damn it!" Demora exclaimed. "He's going into shock!" she exclaimed.

Harry bent and picked his friend up in his arms, and without another word, apparated away.

He appeared on the edge of the Hogwarts grounds and started to walk quickly towards the castle. "It's okay! It's alright, Ron... just hang on, okay? Just hang on!" he urged worriedly, trying to run as best he could without hurting the redhead further with the jostling. The shaking was scaring him and he knew if he didn't do something soon, Ron would die! He just hoped that he wasn't too late...

Harry burst through the halls of Hogwarts with the bleeding redhead in his arms. "SNAPE!" he shouted and turned to a passing student. "Where's the Headmaster?! FIND THE HEADMASTER!!" he shouted, taking Ron towards the infirmary and calling for Snape at the top of his lungs desperately...

"What in the name of all that is holy is going on around here?!" Severus demanded, descending from his office upstairs and following the sound of shouting towards the infirmary, only to pause in shock when he saw Potter not far from the infirmary, holding the redhead in his arms, the boy obviously near-death...

"Give him here!" Severus snapped, taking the boy from Harry and carrying him into the infirmary. There was no time for stupid questions; it was obvious what had happened, and he would have a very stern talk with Harry and Draco once this crisis had passed. He'd been going out of his mind when they hadn't returned last night! He still had search parties out looking for them...

But time was of the essence for Ron and Severus grabbed a stethoscope immediately, listening to the heart.

"He's had - umm... some kind of h-heart issues in the past and - and-" Harry stammered, hovering and trying to explain.

"I know better than you do what he's had in the past, Potter! Shut up, do something useful or get out of my way!" Severus barked.

This was bad.

A normal heart would have had trouble coping with the blood loss, but take a deformed one with one ventricle smaller than the other, where blood was already pumping at a lower efficiency, and that was just asking for trouble.

Severus first grabbed a syringe, giving Ron something to try and stabilise his shock long enough for them to actually make some progress. After giving him the injection, he took out four potion bottles and proceeded to give each one to Ron. They were fast-acting blood replenishers, and two was usually enough, but in Ron's case, he would need twice that much if he even hoped to have a chance.

Once they were administered forcefully, Severus set up an IV so he could give the boy drugs directly. He then started to examine his wounds; broken bones, slashes, third degree burns and internal injuries...

It wasn't a pretty picture.

"Potter! Hold this, and keep pressure on it!" Severus snapped, holding a cloth to a severe gash in Ron's side from the whip which was bleeding profusely still.

Harry held it there, watching the man work and for the first time in his life, grateful for the man's presence. "Is - is he going to be alright?"

"I don't know, Potter!" Severus said tensely, casting charms to heal the broken bones, applying magic salve to the burns and then focusing on the more delicate injuries.

He worked steadily for over an hour, monitoring Ron's heart, which was so weak that it barely registered on the heart monitor. As the potions worked and his body replenished its blood supply gradually, the heart beat strengthened, but at a more erratic pace, as though struggling to keep up with the demand.

Severus gave him drugs to try and help, but in the end when all his injuries were patched, sewn, charmed and bandaged up, it was all just a matter of fate and luck.

He stood back, wiping blood off his hands and looking down at the boy darkly. "I've done all I can for him. He's stable for now, but whether he lives will be up to him. His heart was severely weakened; there's no guarantee it will survive the strain. There's also the possibility of infection and fever. To be quite frank, Potter... it's a miracle he's even alive now," he said darkly. "We'll just have to wait and see. If he makes it through the night, I'd say his odds improve."

Harry looked stricken at this news, his eyes filling. "But - you mean... we have to wait?"

For a brief moment, Severus almost looked sympathetic. His dark eyes softened momentarily and he approached the boy's bedside, reaching over to soothe Ron's hair back from his face, which wasn't so much bruised as it was cut.

"I've seen him survive against the odds before, Potter..." Severus said softly. "He's stronger than he looks, in spirit if not in body. If it were anyone else I would say there's very little chance but..." he trailed, biting a lip. "He's a Weasley. Weasleys endure."

Harry nodded shakily, reaching for his friend's hand and holding it. "Okay... thank you, Headmaster," he said softly, almost humbly, and clung to Ron's bandaged hand as if it were his own lifeline.

Severus watched the brunette silently, and cursed himself for losing just a little bit of his resentment. "Where's Draco?" he demanded softly.

Harry winced. "He's coming," he assured softly. "It was my fault. It was my idea!" he assured quickly. "I practically forced him to come."

Severus looked dry. "No one forces Draco Malfoy to do anything... unless he wants them to believe they're forcing him," he said dryly and waved a hand dismissively. "I will deal with him later," he assured, just relieved that Draco was alive, though he might not be so relieved when he came back and had to face Severus!!!

"Let me know if there's any change," Severus said softly and left the infirmary to go and call off the search parties.

Harry stayed by Ron's bedside, not even listening to the man as he left, lost in a silent world of fear and doubt, clinging to Ron's bandaged hand and waiting...

* * *

Rowan slowed down once they were back into the thick of the forest, the sounds of the searching Death Eaters long since faded out of earshot... They stopped, all in need of a breather, and he smiled faintly, gesturing, "Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy... this is my sister Dora," he introduced properly. "Dora... Mister Malfoy and Miss Granger (I think I'm saying it right)..."

Draco was leaning back against a tree, still looking very white, and looking a bit unimpressed frankly. "And you are?" he drawled.

"Rowan Chambers."

"What sort of name is Rowan?"

"What sort of name is Draco?"

Demora laughed in amusement and folded her arms, leaning back against another tree in mirror of her twin. "He does have a point. I can't think what Mother and Father were thinking when they gave you that name!" she exclaimed but came over to kiss her brother's cheek.

"But I will say what you did was absolutely spectacular! Dangerous, of course, and ridiculously stupid!" she exclaimed and smacked him on the arm for it immediately after the kiss. "Mother would string you up by your toes if she ever found out! But I won't tell her because I enjoy having things to hold over your head," she teased.

Rowan rubbed his arm slightly. "Good to know," he retorted and smiled a bit, actually pleased with himself... He'd need so much more therapy, of course, and it was a wonder he hadn't had a panic attack right there in the throne room - but it had sparked a little self-confidence... made him feel just a little bit less of a loser.

Hermione smiled slightly. "You're a hero and yet your sister smacks you! It's obviously a thankless job." she said softly, suddenly finding herself shy around the handsome brunette.

Demora rolled her eyes.

So fell another one to her brother's charms... She had long ago learned to expect it, knowing it wouldn't get too serious. Her brother was just too messed up right now for relationships.

"Heroes often die tragically in stories. Frankly, I'd rather be the sidekick. I may get half the fame, but at least I don't die! At the end of the play, who is left standing... Hamlet or his dear friend Horatio?" she reasoned idly.

"So you're a coward," Hermione said pointedly.

"Typical Gryffindor mentality... Either be willing to die for a cause (any cause, even that of a mistreated paperclip) or be a coward. I agree with this young lady... At least a 'coward' lives longer..."

"Thank you, Mister Malfoy... though I might point out I don't need anyone to defend me! I'm quite capable of answering such small-minded, prejudicial statements on my own behalf," Demora said indignantly and her grey eyes went cold as a winter wind and she smiled thinly at the girl.

"Of course I'm not a coward. But I am more selective about my battles. Running head first into a situation without properly weighing the pros, cons, the risks against the benefits, is just a recipe for trouble. It is not cowardly to consider before you risk your neck on a lost cause, but it is however incredibly stupid to speak without thinking," she said pointedly and turned on heel to lead the way through the forest in a huff, pissed off and needing to cool down.

Stupid bitch. After her brother and now trying to insult her! She'd drown her in the creek first chance she got...

Hermione was briefly stunned by the sharp retort and glared after the girl. "She -- she just-- I didn't - ugh!!" she exclaimed and sighed. "I'm sorry, Rowan. I didn't mean to... offend her."

Rowan smiled a bit, looking amused. "No one means to... She tends to blow things a little out of proportion. Don't worry about it. But I suggest you avoid the hair-pulling; she really gets a grip and it hurts like hell..."

"I heard that, Rowan!!!" she said sharply from up ahead.

Rowan winced slightly and reached up to pat at his dark hair briefly. "Oh... yeah, my follicles are numbered..."

Demora folded her arms and frowned. "Are we going to stay out here in this ungodly place forever? My hair is starting to frizz from the humidity!"

Hermione frowned. "Your hair?! We just escaped from Death Eaters... my best friend is possibly dying... and you're worried about your hair?"

"Hair care is very important. And you can hardly fawn over him from this vantage point, can you? Puh-lease, Rowan! Can we go now?" she asked and paused when she saw the blond over by the tree lose more colour and seem to waver on his feet. "Wait a second..." she said and approached him. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded.

Draco straightened, leaning against the tree he was against, and narrowed his eyes. "Besides the putrid experience that is your company? Nothing..."

Demora didn't so much as blink at the insult and in fact smiled thinly. "A clever insult; how droll! You must have read a book on the subject. In any case, you're lying. You just lost colour, your pupils have dilated, you're wavering on your feet, your hands are shaking and either you have a stick up your skinny arse to give you that expression, or you're very tense from pain. Where are you hurt?"

Rowan came over with Hermione behind. "Dora, what's going on?" he asked. He hoped she wasn't lecturing him on posture or something; great way to make a good first impression on your twin.

"He's hurt and he won't tell me where," she said and leaned forward to reach for his black jacket and pull it aside so she could find where he was injured.

Draco flinched violently back from the strange person. "Excuse me?! Kindly keep your hands to yourself... What are you two? Nosey and Grabby?"

"Just call me nosey! Would you stop behaving like a two year old and kindly get over here so I can treat your injury! I can smell blood on you," Demora said commandingly.

"Draco... if you're hurt... maybe you should let her see it..." Hermione said hesitantly.

"It's nothing..." Draco said.

"If it's nothing, then you'll let me see it. If it's nothing, then you wouldn't be trying to hide it! If it's nothing as you claim, then you wouldn't be dripping blood on the ground!" she exclaimed, pointing to the floor of the forest where some blood had stained the dirt.

Draco looked distinctly annoyed. He didn't like this day...

He'd started it off with having had very little sleep for fear of drawing attention to himself with nightmares, had been too put off by what Granger cooked to eat anything, walked a long way, seen that place again, been caught, seen them murder the girl they'd found, then in the resulting scuffle spurned by his outrage, he'd been stabbed...

To top it all off, after all of his help, Granger and Potter would have eyes only for this goit who had just happened to save them a tiny bit at the end of it all... He led them through the forest, through the corridors, right to their pathetic friend... This guy put on a cloak and an evil voice for five minutes and won all the attention and awe!

Bastard. Draco hated him already..

Not to mention his annoying sister... perceptive, annoying sister...

With a roll of his eyes, Draco pulled aside his black jacket to reveal his bony torso properly and the loose grey t-shirt that covered it thinly. His right side was heavily stained with blood, and a small slit in the t-shirt material indicated where he had been stabbed.

Demora gasped and for a moment, she could almost imagine she felt the pain herself.

"That's a stab wound!" she exclaimed in horror, all trace of haughtiness gone in the face of this injury.

Draco, in contrast, smiled sarcastically. "Yes... Thank you for pointing that out to me. If I die, you'll be sure to let me know, won't you?"

Demora frowned at his sarcasm... but felt a tingle of pleasure because she could respect sarcasm! It was one thing to meet her brother. It was quite another to realize she liked him!

"Come on..." she said, gently taking him by the sleeve to sit down on a long, and suddenly it was as if he were Rowan and she reached for her backpack, taking out her emergency first aid kit and lifting the shirt. "I shall try to make this as painless as possible of course. Thankfully it doesn't look too deep..." she said wincingly, cleaning the gash with antiseptic wipes and holding a cloth to it to apply pressure.

"Ow..." Draco murmured, despite not actually feeling any pain (he hadn't even realised he'd been stabbed until they were in the throne room), and frowning mutinously. "If you insist on helping, will you at least do so carefully?"

"I am doing so carefully!" Demora snapped. "Perhaps if you weren't so skinny and ate something now and again, it wouldn't hurt so much when anyone touches you! Honestly, haven't you heard of the four major food groups?" she asked. "I can introduce you to a fifth called 'chocolate' which you could no doubt use some of," she said, noticing his pale, bone-thin torso, his every rib sticking out starkly against the skin.

She touched him lightly with gentle hands, noticing his skin was almost the same texture as her own. It was an odd thought to realize she was touching her twin! Almost the moment she had put her hands on his side, she had felt something odd... almost familiar...

She cleaned up the wound carefully and cast a very strong healing charm, before she started to bandage it.

Draco was rolling his eyes slightly, and placed a hand to his upper-chest in mock. "Oh, hitting me where it hurts... my nutrition!" he dismayed dramatically.

Demora managed a small smile and eventually laughed. "Alright, Mr. Show-Off. You're almost done. Just hold still! Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed, gasping in horror as she saw the rest of his body. "Look at those scars!! What in the name of Merlin's beard happened?!"

Draco tensed and pulled his t-shirt down quickly. "I think you're done now," he said crisply.

"Well I'm not!" she snapped, taking his shirt and pulling it back up, having to tape some more of the bandage on. "And there's no need to get defensive."

"No? I suppose it was the look of horror that put me off; I've rarely found it a sign of compliment in my experience..."

"Well, I'm sorry..." Demora said softly, making sure the bandage was secure. "I just... haven't seen injuries like that in a long time.." she said softly and seemed to pause, looking hesitant as she knelt beside him, before glancing up. "Was it your parents?" she asked softly at last.

Draco looked down at her for a moment, his eyes not quite conveying alarm but something similar for a brief moment... He saw Rowan and Hermione had walked across the clearing, flirting without shame apparently, then looked back down at the girl.

"My father," he drawled composedly.

Demora didn't flinch, but there was a darkness in her grey eyes. "I see..." she said softly and pulled his shirt down carefully, before taking a seat next to him on the log, her back straight, sitting properly as she had been taught in her youth. "I've heard it on good authority that the Malfoys weren't very nice people," she said softly.

"Then congratulations; your ears obviously work," Draco drawled, deadpanned.

Demora smiled slightly. "You're ashamed to talk about it."

"No... I'm just disinclined to talk about it with a complete stranger..." Draco retorted, almost waspishly, and frowned over at Rowan, who was smiling at something Hermione had just said. "Does he mean to do that?" he asked, to change the subject. "Or does flirting just come naturally to him? It's sickening either way."

Demora tensed slightly and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "He's naturally charming. Girls flock to him in droves. He's a genuinely good and decent person which is hard to come by and the female sex responds to that. He can't help it."

Draco scoffed and raised his hands to give quotes, "'Genuinely good' and 'decent', indeed," he muttered.

Demora frowned. "You might be a little grateful seeing as how he just saved your life and the life of your friends."

"I didn't need him saving my life."

Demora scoffed. "Right. What was your brilliant plan? Rip them apart with your violent rhetoric?"

Draco actually smiled slightly, genuinely, looking across the clearing. He was honestly amused for a moment. "Mmm... I wish," he drawled quietly, wry.

Demora smiled genuinely, glad she had gotten him to smile. "Well... I'm sure if you could, that you'd be the best at it," she assured.

"Oh, I've no doubt," Draco agreed immodestly.

Demora laughed in amusement, and bit a lip. "So... umm... how did you get mixed in with Harry Potter? I mean, not that it's not heroic to go off and try to save the world! But after agreeing with me earlier, I have to wonder..."

"Mmm..." Draco said softly, and shrugged bonily, weary. "I don't know... Everyone suffers the odd moment of insanity, this was mine."

Demora hummed. "So... you're not close friends or anything? That's a shame. I'd have liked to meet him! Not that meeting you is any less of a pleasure, I assure you."

Draco scoffed bitterly, "Oh, yes... I'm sure," he murmured, then raised a hand to carefully run it back through his silky blond hair carefully. "I'm sure you'll meet him properly... That is, if you can bear to come to Hogwarts to make his acquaintance."

"Hogwarts? You know, I think I'd like that. I was raised in France and I've attended Beauxbatons up until now," she informed. "This is actually the first time I've been out of France in a long time. You wouldn't mind us tagging along with you then? Think you can tolerate Rowan for a while?" she asked teasingly. "I'm sure he'd enjoy the chance to see Mr. Potter again."

Draco frowned slightly. "Mmm... I'm sure he would..." he mumbled. "And yes, I can tolerate him - and if not, I have plenty of overpowering drugs with me."

"Don't say that!" Demora said sharply, standing up abruptly as if she'd been burned.

Draco looked around and up, quirking an eyebrow for the reaction. "I beg your pardon?"

Demora closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose briefly and taking a deep breath, upset at herself for her outburst. It was one thing to stage a tantrum, to pretend to lose her temper to get what she wanted, but it was quite another to actually lose it and almost panic!

"I--I apologize..." she said softly and opened her eyes to look at him stoically. "Just please... do not suggest such a thing, even jokingly. It's not funny," she said softly.

Grey eyes watched her intently for a moment, then slid to Rowan, and back again. "That," he murmured, "is a matter of opinion. But I now know yours, and so for my comment, I apologise..." he drawled softly.

Demora waved it off dismissively and took a seat. "No. I shouldn't have reacted like that. Obviously I still have a great deal of personal issues to work through. I'll buy a few self-help books and be done with it. It's cheaper and less annoying than actual therapy."

Draco looked amused again. "That's one way to do it," he supposed.

Demora smiled slightly and shrugged almost bashfully. "Well... keeps you motivated. They each have a little mantra for you to give yourself. 'I am a good and worthwhile person and I have much to offer the world!'" she informed mockingly and laughed. "Rowan says that's why I appear much to arrogant for other people. I've read all these self-help books designed to boost my self-esteem."

"Ah..." Draco breathed.

Demora smiled slightly. "Don't talk much, do you?"

Draco shrugged bony shoulders slightly, and carefully shrugged off his black jacket, since that was sticky on the inside from the blood, revealing long pale arms and the grey t-shirt, also rather stained. "What's there to talk about? Life.. death..."

"Life is a better topic than death," she replied. "And life covers a wide variety of topics!"

"Mmm.."

"I suspect you prefer to listen more than talk though."

"If you say so."

"But then, I suppose that depends on who you're listening to. No one wants to listen to a complete idiot babble on and on inanely about nothing!"

"...Very true."

Demora frowned. "Do I detect a note of a thinly veiled insult?"

Draco just raised an eyebrow innocently.

Demora smiled proudly. "Nice one."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Thank you... do I get a gold star?"

"Nope. Fresh out of gold stars. But you did get a lifetime supply of hairspray!" she said in a mock-game show voice.

"Oh... goody..."

Demora laughed in amusement. "Fine then. I'll take them back and keep them for myself!" she quipped and sighed, standing up. "We should probably get moving. Are you going to be okay to walk with that? Not that you haven't had worse obviously," she said darkly.

Draco nodded slightly, gathering up his jacket and drawing as deep a breath as he could in preparation for standing. "I'm sure I can walk fine," he drawled with dignity, almost indignant at the very suggestion he couldn't, and stood quickly, eager to prove otherwise...

...Then fainted dead away.

Demora's eyes widened. "Draco!! ROWAN!!!" she called in panic, bending down next to the blond and soothing his hair. Had she killed him?!!

She felt a pulse at the base of his neck and anxiously cradled the blond's head in her lap, not quite sure what to do as she monitored his pulse and tried to figure out what had happened! He looked oddly pale. It was possible he'd lost a lot of blood and fainted as a result, but she couldn't be sure...

Rowan hurried over from nearby, blue eyes puzzled and anxious. "What is it?" he asked. "What's he doing? We don't really have the time for a snooze!"

"He's not sleeping! He fainted!" she exclaimed. "Do you still have those smelling salts?" she asked, knowing he kept them just because sometimes he had panic attacks that were so bad he passed out.

"Smelling salts? Yeah... sure," Rowan said, surprised, and rifled through his bag before handing a small vial over to her.

Hermione watched this carefully and bit a lip, wondering why the girl was so fussy over Draco, but didn't say a word.

Demora placed it under Draco's nose, still holding his head in her lap and anxiously soothing his hair as she held the vial to his nose in hopes of rousing him.

"Draco? Come on, Drakey... wake up!" she called, and felt almost a flashback to a previous time.

She was six... and her brother was passed out on the kitchen floor... his head badly bleeding and she'd cradled him in her lap and spent a long time calling to him, trying to get him to wake up...

Draco woke in record time, twitching away from the vial and blinked grey eyes open blearily, almost expecting for a moment to see-- His expression cleared and he sat up quickly, realising where he was.

Demora looked worried and strained. "Are you alright? You fainted."

Draco looked around, almost arrested by her odd expression, before he nodded and felt the back of his head automatically for injury. "Yes... fine. It happens," he murmured stoically, humiliated.

Demora bit the inside of her cheek to keep from commenting and just silently reached over to take his bony arm and help him to a stand carefully.

"Just take it slow..." she advised softly, and handed the vial back to Rowan. "Thank you."

Rowan nodded, looking at Draco warily, and looked at his sister for a moment two... While usually, they'd have met gazes, she didn't look away from Draco... For a moment, Rowan felt strange, despite having realised dynamics would change if she really got her twin back.

"Right, well... best go then, cover as much ground as we can before dark," he said softly, heading off the way they'd come.

Demora glanced over at Rowan in surprise, wondering because she almost sensed something off about him, but she dismissed it for now, deciding now wasn't the time to pursue it when they had company and she walked slowly with Draco while Hermione and Rowan took the lead. "You're okay then?" she asked, hovering almost protectively.

Draco nodded, looking rather... tired... but otherwise as composed as usual. "Yes, I'm fine. It's no big deal..."

Demora scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Right... because unconsciousness at random is a sign of a healthy person!" she said with a roll of her eyes, holding onto his sleeve lightly for support as walked with him. "Do you always lie through your teeth or is it just to total strangers you're trying to impress?"

"Impress?" Draco echoed, and scoffed slightly. "I'd try to impress earthworms before you..."

"Uh-huh..." Demora retorted. "But I'm smarter than an earthworm, and you wouldn't have to work as hard to do it."

"I could also step on an earthworm... with a lot less resistance."

"True. An earthworm wouldn't pull your hair out," she agreed easily. "Yup... no doubt about it! You're better off with those disgusting creatures. And the best thing is that once you're dead, they get to eat you! You can be together forever. Now that's love right there..." she said dryly with a small, morbid smile.

"Remind me to never read any form of romance novel you write."

"Oh no! I plan to write a suspense novel. An eerie, scary murder mystery!" she assured.

"Oh... well that's alright then," Draco murmured, and slowed, even with her help. He was just feeling so breathless, and it was difficult to keep his laboured attempts to catch his breath from being too obvious. "Maybe you should go on ahead - with your goit brother for a while... I'll just - keep an eye out behind us, be sure we're not - being followed."

Demora hesitated and shook her head. "No...no, because if we are being followed, I don't want you trying to fend them off alone." she said tactfully, seeing his breathlessness and bit a lip. "What do you say we...relax for a bit and just make sure?" she asked, going over to a tree and so he could rest against it.

Draco looked at her malevolently. "Tactful," he said, with a twisted false smile.

Demora nodded graciously. "Thank you," she said softly, ignoring any censure. "Does this happen often? You... needing to check to make sure we're not being followed?"

Draco's chest rose and fell in a harsh, but regular fashion as he took advantage of the still position to catch his breath a bit. "Fairly... yes..."

Demora winced. "Do you have... umm... asthma or something? They have these medicine thingies you put to your mouth and it helps you breathe better," she said softly, her grey eyes concerned.

Draco rolled his eyes, sick of the question. "No... not asthma..."

"Then what is it?" she asked. "You'll forgive the observation but getting this breathless all the time isn't exactly considered normal."

"No... it isn't, but there's little to do about it..." Draco retorted. "My lungs are just... very scarred, that's all..."

"I see..." she said softly. "Is this your father's fault again?" she asked hesitantly.

Draco shrugged vaguely. "If you can... blame him for my weak constitution," he murmured. In some cases, he knew he could, for illnesses and infections could have been treated before the damage was done, but still...

"I will. Bastard! May he be eaten by the cat and the devil eat the cat!" she said indignantly.

Draco thought that an... odd curse... but he wouldn't disagree with it. He looked around to where Rowan and Hermione were still ambling forward, and winced, pale. "I can't go any further..." he breathed, humiliated for the admission, but he just knew he truly couldn't keep going right now.

Demora nodded. "Okay..." she said softly and put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay here, yeah? Rest there," she said, pointing to the rock.

"Hey guys!!" Demora called after them. "My feet are killing me and my blisters are getting blisters! Can we puh-lease camp here for tonight?"

Hermione turned and frowned. "There's still daylight left. We should keep going and get as far as we can today!" she exclaimed, anxious to get back to Hogwarts where Ron was and find out what was going on, even though she was enjoying her time with Rowan who was... quite nice.

"What are you?! A sadist or something? Do you want to see my feet?!" Demora demanded, looking like she was on the verge of a temper tantrum. "Rowan, please! Can we stop here? I can't go any further and-- frankly, I'm getting hungry! My body wasn't made to be Miss Girl Scout! If I ever ask us to go into the woods again, I give you full permission to kick me!"

Rowan sighed softly, looking up at the light between the trees. There was still a good half an hour's worth of light left... it seemed silly to waste it. "No, Dora... I think we should go on. Here, I can give you a piggyback so your feet don't hurt," he offered to placate her.

"I don't want a piggy back! What am I? Eight?!" Demora demanded and approached her brother and took his hand, prepared to put on all the dramatics necessary to get them to stop for Draco's sake. "Please, Rowan?! I'm not feeling well! I'm getting cramps! It could be my period, I don't know!" she exclaimed, knowing talk of periods always freaked guys out and made her eyes fill with tears.

"Wouldn't it be more reasonable to stop so I can rest? And after what you've been through today, you need to rest too! It's been so stressful! I don't want you getting too stressed out, 'cause if you get stressed out then I'll get stressed out and my feet really hurt and I just want to set up the tents and eat and - and now I'm getting a headache!" she whined dramatically.

"Ugh..." Hermione said softly. "Please!!!"

Demora sniffed. "Oh, shut up! You just want to keep walking with him so you can seduce him, you evil witch!"

"What?!" Hermione demanded.

Rowan blushed. "Dora!" he said.

"You heard me! She's all over you like a cat in heat! I'm surprised she's not sticking her bum up in the air and mewing!!"

"WHY YOU--" Hermione began, but was cut off.

"Would you all just shut up?!" Draco exclaimed, standing and looking drained. "We have to stop because it's either that or I pass out... Now save your cat fight for a time when I can actually enjoy it, and get the tents up because we are stopping here for the night."

Demora frowned and folded her arms, pouting. "Well... so much for my brilliant plan. You could have just let me handled this! Miss Smarty-Pants here was about to break!"

"Dora..." Rowan warned.

Demora blushed and then looked up at him innocently. "I only did it out of compassion and the goodness in my heart! And it's okay, Rowan. I know you can't help being gorgeous and attracting every stray animal that comes your way," she said, reaching up to soothe his hair affectionately.

Hermione glared hatefully. "I'm setting up the tents!!" she snapped, indignantly going.

"Good. A little manual labour will do her good," Demora said indignantly, not knowing why she suddenly felt like she had to protect her brother from the evil, fuzzy she-creature. "Rowan, why don't you and Draco both sit down and I'll help get everything set up, okay?" she soothed, knowing he'd had a stressful day and frankly wanting to pamper him a bit for a reward for saving her twin's life. She owed him yet again...

Rowan smiled wryly, shaking his head. "I'd rather not... I don't think he likes me much," he stated, nodding towards Draco, who'd collapsed at the base of a tree to rest, and was setting up the fire with wand work. "I think it's safer to help you. And don't be so mean to Hermione."

Demora lifted her chin indignantly, handing him some supplies to unpack. "I'm not being mean. She's just a small-minded know it all. And did you see her shoes?!" she demanded and shook her head, tsking as she set up their tent. "And honestly, she's just a tad bit obvious, isn't she? And she could use some de-frizz on that hair."

"Obvious in what way? And I think her hair is rather pretty..." Rowan retorted.

Demora frowned. "It's the colour of poo!" she exclaimed. "And obvious as in she might as well just drool at your feet! She's like all the other small-minded, empty-headed bimbos that throw themselves at you, Rowan! And I read in the paper where she and Harry Potter had a fling and she broke his heart!"

Rowan rolled his blue eyes, brushing some dark-brown hair behind an ear and placidly unrolling a sleeping bag for Demora to use. "Oh, she was not drooling, don't be silly... and she's far from empty-headed. We've been talking about all sorts of books we've both read... She's very learned."

Demora looked tense as she took out supplies for food. "Reading books doesn't make you smart," she muttered. "Retarded people can read."

"Reading books doesn't make you smart, no... We know that from my experience," Rowan said wryly. "But she reads and understands it, and that does make her clever."

"Fine. But being clever doesn't make you decent or honest or any of those things!" she said indignantly. "Evil people can be clever. And books aren't necessarily the end all and beginning of all wisdom!" she exclaimed.

Rowan shook out the sleeping bag. "Dora, ease off a little, won't you? She's not evil! She's very nice... You'd see if you got to know her a little."

"I don't want to get to know her," she said petulantly, realizing she was acting like a child but she couldn't help it. Something about that girl and the way she looked at Rowan... the way he looked at her... set her teeth on edge.

"Well... that's where we differ then, because I like her and she invited me to go and visit Hogwarts, which I'm going to do... I'd like to spend some more time with her," he said simply, and helped her pull the tent up neatly.

Demora glanced up. " What if I don't want to go to Hogwarts?" she demanded tensely. She did of course... but... that wasn't the point...

"Why wouldn't you? That's where Draco's going..."

Demora frowned. "Well, what if I changed my mind and - and didn't want to go?" she demanded. "Would you go without me?"

Rowan paused in consideration for a moment, then he shook his head. "No..."

Demora's shoulders relaxed and she came over to hug him tightly. "I'm sorry, Rowan!" she exclaimed, feeling like she said that all the time and far too often. "I don't mean to be a bitch. We'll go, okay? Even if miss Fuzzy-Face is there." she muttered.

Rowan smiled slightly, hugging her gently back and then pulling back to give both of her cheeks exaggerated kisses. "Thank you... And don't be cranky; you know you're my best girl," he grinned, and then pulled the tent open and got inside, wanting to change clothes and just relax for a moment without the threat of insects.

Demora smiled triumphantly, before narrowing her eyes at Hermione Granger across the way.

Too damn right she was. And she would stay that way too...

She sighed at her odd, vindictive thoughts and grabbed some soup from last night, heating it up and going over to Draco. "Feeling better?"

Draco opened his eyes, having been dozing a little. "Mmm..."

Demora looked sympathetic. "You want me to get you a blanket or something?"

"No..." Draco murmured, not appearing to be cold despite only wearing his stained t-shirt.

"Okay..." she said softly, biting a lip. "Would you like me to at least get you a new shirt then? That one's stained with blood."

"Yes... if you could. I put my bag over there," Draco gestured vaguely with a bony hand, drained of all energy. "Get a strengthening potion from in it too..."

Demora nodded and went over to the bag, reaching for it and opening it carefully. She wasn't a snoop, but if she should happen to see a few things inside that might tell her a little more about her twin, that was hardly her fault, was it?

She grabbed the shirt immediately, but had a little trouble finding the potions. She had to rummage down in the bottom, but paused when her hands came up with something small and delicate. She drew it out and gasped softly in shock.

It was a picture. A picture of... herself.

She remembered when that picture was taken. Her mother had insisted on having lots of photographs for Christmas cards to brag about her lovely daughter. Those had been real pearls, and she'd been terribly upset when Demora had accidentally broken the strand.

She put a hand to her mouth, tears filling her eyes as she stared at the photograph.

He had kept it. He hadn't forgotten her! He kept her picture in his bag. And what's more, this was proof... Undeniable proof! Although her heart had told her the moment she'd seen him on that street, her mind had needed more convincing, and here it was. The proof she had so sought...

Silent tears spilled down her face, and she was thankful Rowan and that Granger girl were otherwise occupied and her back was turned to Draco so no one could see them, for she so rarely cried except when extremely moved by something.

The fact he had kept her picture meant more to her than she could express. He had kept her with him, just as she had always kept him with her, even when she thought him dead. At night, she had gone outside and waved to the stars, thinking him up there.. wondering if he could see her...

But he hadn't been up there. He'd been here, on earth, and possibly missing her as she'd missed him.

She sniffed softly, wiping at her eyes and putting the picture back quickly, determined to compose herself before seeing him again. She grabbed the potion bottle and turned back to him, staring at him with almost new eyes.

Her other half was sleeping.

She smiled shakily, whole again for the first time in forever, and she approached him silently, having already set up his tent and gently helped him up to his feet, letting him lean on her, practically carrying him as she dragged him just the few feet to his tent.

Draco lay down carefully inside the tent, limp and not even really awake... His eyes stayed closed, navigating his way into a comfortable position on his uninjured side by touch alone, and pillowed his left cheek with a hand, his right arm bent and draped over his thin right side, above his wound.

Demora smiled shakily and lay down next to him in mirror of his position, turned onto her side facing him and watched him sleeping silently, memorizing his features, noticing how his nose had gotten bigger, his face had gotten older, but he was still the same in many ways. She could still see the boy she had known in him...

Draco drew a shaky unconscious breath and exhaled it, brows furrowing for a brief moment... His hand shifted out from under his cheek and curled on his pillow. "Demora..." he murmured, barely a whisper.

Demora paled slightly at her name and her eyes got glassy again at the thought he was thinking of her. She reached out and gently put her hand over the one that was on his pillow.

"Right here, Draco..." she whispered softly, barely audible. "I'm right here."

Draco stirred marginally again, and haltingly turned his hand over, twitching his fingers gently closed over hers. "Mora..." he breathed, his dream pacified successfully... while it had always ended badly in previous years.

Demora's eyes filled and spilled over, and she closed her eyes at the familiar name which she hadn't been called since she was six. It was so much like Dora, which Rowan called her, but not the same.

She opened her eyes and sniffed softly, careful not to wake him as she used her free hand to soothe his hair and hummed softly an ancient lullaby that she hadn't uttered since the day they had taken her away from Malfoy Manor, making sure he was lulled to sleep completely.

Draco's hand around hers tightened and he shifted at the tune, getting dangerously close to rousing.

She stopped the singing and held the hand back gently, reaching for the blankets with her free hand to put over him warmly and then silently charmed his dirty, sticky shirt as clean as she could. She soothed his hair, and gently tried to extract her hand from his so he could rest...

Draco lay very still on his side, not moving but to shallowly breathe, and when she pulled her hand from his, he fisted his hand on the pillow again, as if he was still holding onto something.

Demora looked almost pained, sensing somehow he was reaching for her, even in dreams.

"You won't find me there, brother..." she whispered softly. "But you may find me when you wake. Rest well." she whispered softly and bent to kiss the fisting hand, before leaving the tent quickly so he could sleep without further distraction, only to find herself almost bumping into Hermione.

Demora frowned at her. "Don't they walk on your planet?" she demanded.

Hermione frowned back, having been waiting for the girl to emerge from the tent and feeling stupid for bumping into her clumsily.

"What were you doing in there?" she demanded with narrowed eyes.

Demora smiled thinly. "Giving him a quickie. What'd you think I was doing? I was putting him to bed!"

"Why were you following us?" Hermione asked sharply.

Demora raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. "Excuse me? What is this? The Spanish Inquisition? Don't you have something better to do? Oh no wait! My brother's in his tent, so you can't drool over him. I guess without a guy to go weak over, you have to resort to asking stupid and pointless questions!" she quipped, going over to ladle some soup into a bowl.

Hermione glared at the girl and ladled some soup, before smiling coyly. "Actually, no. I don't. I'll just take this soup to Rowan. I'm sure he's hungry and would enjoy eating his meal with someone civilized and sophisticated," she said arrogantly and made her way for the tent.

* * *

Truth was, Hermione was more than grateful for Rowan's presence. He was handsome, charming, and yes... okay... she was throwing herself at him just a little. But she had to.

All the way along this trip, she'd been bargaining in her head. She'd promised that she would let Ron go if only he would live! If only they could get him out alive, she would move on and not hinder his life in any way with her feelings. She knew how hard that promise was going to be to keep now. She'd known from the moment she'd heard he'd been taken that she loved him... possibly deeper than was wise. She wasn't sure if she could ever get over it.

But she had to try.

And Rowan was so sweet and smart and gentle! He was... like Ron... in many ways. She didn't want to be unfair to him. She genuinely liked him for him! So she would try... very hard... not to see Ron in his blue eyes.

She smiled as she stood outside the tent and cleared her throat. "Umm... Rowan? May I come in?" she called hesitantly.

Rowan sat up, having been lying down with arms behind his head. He'd changed into a pair of close-fitting light-blue jeans and a short-sleeved green t-shirt that made his blue eyes stand out more.

To be honest, he had put more thought than usual into what he changed into... He hadn't been remotely interested by any girl since - well - before everything got so bad...

A good couple of years in any case. He'd tried to keep up his social butterfly lifestyle after his dad had died... but girls didn't want to go out with someone depressed enough to have medication for it... So he'd had just a couple of failures, then stopped, and before he could get himself together enough to date again - things had got even worse.

In any case... the point was... he actually wanted to try and look his best..

He patted his dark hair straight and smiled, "Sure - come in!"

Hermione entered and smiled, carrying the bowl of soup and noticing how nice he looked.

"I didn't know if you were hungry or not, but I figured it would be safer to eat in here. Less chance of anything flying into your soup bowl!" she quipped wryly. "May I sit down?"

Marry me... he thought, and smiled with a blush. "Yeah, of course... here," he made some room, pushing aside his bag and gesturing to Demora's sleeping bag for her to sit and get comfortable.

Hermione hesitated and nodded, taking a seat on Demora's sleeping bag and handed him the soup.

She got her own bowl and ate silently, biting a lip and smiling at him slightly. "I really want to thank you for what you did today. It's not every day a total stranger risks his life for other total strangers."

"No... no, don't thank me... It benefited me just as much," Rowan assured softly, stirring the soup a bit, trying to work up an appetite for it.

"Oh?" Hermione asked. "How?"

"Oh, just... you know... experience and... things," Rowan said, ineloquently.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Rowan was silent for a moment, before sighing and putting aside the untouched soup. He didn't hide his problems... he just rarely found someone new he was willing to share them with...

"It's just a matter of slow recovery really... I mean, what I did was... amazing for me. I can get twitchy about just going down to the shops by myself..."

Hermione's eyebrows widened. "I find that hard to believe..." she said softly. "You seem very independent! What are you recovering from, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Quite a long story..."

"Hey Rowan! Want more soup?" Demora asked, poking her head into the tent, and smiling sweetly at Hermione, though her eyes glared daggers at the girl for sitting on her spot.

Hermione glared. "He hasn't finished what he has!"

"Actually, I'm full," Rowan said, hesitantly holding up the full bowl. "Could you take this back out, Dora?"

Demora took the bowl and nodded. "Of course, Rowan," she assured. "Anything for you!" she quipped and glared at the girl on her way out of the tent.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. "So... you said it was a long story?"

"Oh, right... yes..." Rowan nodded and drew in a deep breath. "Well... it all started when I was sixteen... and my dad died. It was really sudden... just got ill, said it was a tummy bug... then next thing we knew, we had to get to the hospital one night... and he'd died by morning..."

Hermione looked stricken. "Oh god... Rowan, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, reaching over to put a hand over his. "Were you two very close? What was wrong with him?"

"We were... And it was some very bad form of food poisoning. He could have lived but... it was just... complications and things. I was with him when he died... I'd gone in to see him while we were waiting for test results," he said, looking strained at the mere memory. He wanted to take his anxiety tablets... or maybe the anti depressants... "It didn't matter how much I clung to him - he wouldn't stay."

Hermione looked pained. "Rowan... I'm so sorry..." she said softly. "I can't... imagine... how it would feel to lose my father. We're not as close as I would like but... he's very important to me," she said sadly. "And you were so young to lose him! You must have been devastated..."

Rowan nodded. "I was... Demora was thirteen at the time, but she was only with us since she was six, so she hadn't had as long to get attached, not to the same extent..."

Hermione frowned. "With you since you were six? I don't understand..."

"She's adopted... technically..." Rowan said softly.

"Hey, Rowan!" Demora interjected, sticking her head in the tent, and her grey eyes almost turned to ice when she saw Hermione holding his hand. "Almost time to take your pills! You want a glass of water?"

Rowan looked around quickly. "Dora!" he exclaimed, looking awkward and humiliated. "I'm kind of busy right now! I'll conjure water when I need it..."

"But you have to take them on time," she lectured. "And I want to be here when you do. Promise you'll tell me before hand?"

"I think I can managed to swallow without your help."

Demora frowned. "Fine!" she said tensely and closed the tent, stalking off in a huff.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Well... that explains it then. You're so sweet! And she's... not."

Rowan blushed a bit. "She's just... um... high maintenance. Anyway, where was I?"

Hermione looked sympathetic. "You were telling me about your father."

"Yes... um, the upshot of all of that was that our mum nearly had a breakdown... just barely managed to cope with our support, and I got depressed. Fairly natural, of course... except I was a moderate to severe case of it. I had to take the right medication to help, but it allowed me to cope and I kept things as normal as I could."

Hermione nodded sadly. "That must have been hard, having the whole family fall apart like that. I'm sorry you had to get on medication. Were those the pills she was talking about?"

"Mm... partly..." Rowan murmured. "I still take one tablet twice a day... But anyway, things were fairly rough for a while, and we owe everything to Demora for keeping us all together. We both supported Mum, and she supported me... She got herself together at last, and I still muddled through as best I could. Things started to get better, and I focused on my goals; I wanted to go into journalism, you see..." he supplied, and reached forward, almost brushing a cheek to hers to pull his camera out of his bag to show her with a small smile.

"I took pictures everywhere I went, and wrote a fair few dramatic tales of cats stuck up trees, etcetera, for practice... I wanted to make a real difference, and in the end, I decided to do that, I'd have to go to the places that really needed to be seen and heard about... So that took me to Sierra Leone in Africa, where they were in the middle of a civil war over gold at the time..."

Hermione nodded intently. "I've heard of that. It's very dangerous! And your goals were admirable. Did you really go then?"

She was trying to focus on the conversation and not his proximity, which was frankly quite close. She was a normal, red-blooded girl and she'd have been dead not to have her heart pounding just a bit, her cheeks flushing and finding herself entranced by his soft, soothing voice and deep blue eyes...

They looked so much like Ron's...

No. No, focus! Here and now...

Rowan... not Ron...

Rowan hesitated, blue eyes darkening. "Yes... yes, I did... I was eighteen, nearly nineteen, and I had enough money saved up so I went... I joined the reporting and media crews. For a couple of weeks, we followed the trail of devastation. I took more pictures than I did write anything... I was often at a loss for words. We'd drive our mini bus through these shanty towns that were just burned to the ground... You could still see children's toys abandoned in the sand, and shell casings from guns... It was quite terrifying, in retrospect, but at the time I was more bewildered than anything. These people were fighting themselves over control of a substance that the rest of the world wanted... I just couldn't believe the lengths they went to, the number of innocent locals who paid for the greed of the Western world."

Hermione nodded intently. "Absolutely horrible, isn't it? Makes one sick!" she exclaimed indignantly and sighed, shaking her head. "But it was quite noble of you to go," she assured.

"Well, I wanted to make a change... and I wanted something to be passionate about..." Rowan murmured. "I often look back and think I wanted somewhere to hide too. I think that I might not have gone if not for my dad dying. In fact, I'm sure I wouldn't have... because my goals were only finalised after he was gone... I would probably have been happy enough to stay at home if he was still there. But..." he trailed, noticing his hands were trembling, and wiped the clammy palms on his thin knees carefully before continuing.

"In any case, I was there... After doing a lot of work on the latest bunch of riots and attacks, we suddenly caught up to the action in the worst way. We came across an overturned ambulance on the road towards rebel borders, and all got out. There were bodies there, real bodies of real people... there were some children, a teenager of my own age... They were just littered with bullet holes, as was the ambulance. Pictures were taken as if it was some kind of... I don't know... I didn't take a single picture of it myself. I spent most of the time we were there throwing up behind a bush."

Hermione winced, looking pained. "Oh god... Rowan, that's terrible!" she exclaimed. "Those poor people..." she said softly, reaching over to take one of his shaking hands and squeezing.

Demora sat just outside the tent, not far from the fire, listening to Rowan tell the story she had heard only once before... and silently hating the girl inside the tent for inspiring his confidence enough to tell it again.

Rowan looked strained, sighing. "Then we heard gunfire, and it was close... really close... They all scrambled to get back on the bus, but the first in just drove on, leaving at least eight behind, including me, still at the bush... A jeep of rebels came across the bridge ahead towards them, they ran the bus off the road, hopped out of the jeep and just opened fire... The windows all broke and we could - we could hear them screaming, could see blood splattering what remained of the glass... Then a shot must have done enough damage to the bus and it all went up in flames."

Hermione put a free hand to her mouth in horror. "Oh my... what did you do?! You must have been terrified! How did you get out of there?!" she asked, having never heard a story like this before in her life.

Rowan was looking down at his lap, the only way he could concentrate enough to tell the story. His hands were wringing themselves now... "Mmm, two of the cameraman ran for it - they were mowed down. I didn't even see blood at first. They just fell... all so fast... blood came later. The other five and I stayed where we were, and the rebel captain was giving orders and the only one of us who spoke the right language pled... It was only then I realised - the soldiers--" he began, and cut off for a moment.

Demora fisted her hands, resisting the urge to burst into the tent and run to him, to comfort him as she had when he had nightmares... but the girl got to him first...

Hermione scooted closer to Rowan and sat next to him, gently giving him a half-hug and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"The soldiers... what?" she asked softly.

Rowan drew a shuddered breath deeply, "-Were children," he breathed. "They were just... just little boys... nine... ten... Boys with guns. Boys who had just killed people..." he winced.

"They decided not to kill us too, and we were put in the jeep and taken off with them... We went to a large white house in the centre of the latest city to be overthrown by the rebels... We were put in this bare room upstairs with bullet holes in one wall... None of us found it easy to sleep; I can't remember shutting my eyes once. We'd hear partying downstairs... see fires between the boards across the window... houses still on fire from the fighting... There was food provided, but I never had any.

-We were kept there for about four days, then Penny - a reporter - was given a piece of paper and a camera was given back to the cameraman with us. She had to read out the ransom demand for herself and the rest of us...They'd decided there was more money to be made here than gold, and wanted to get something else... There was a deadline of twelve hours. Due to a technical fault, no one here received the transmission when it was first sent by them... They didn't reply within twelve hours, so-" Rowan cut off, and he was starting to look a bit strange, very white and a bit distant.

Demora was shaking. So... what? WHAT?!

He'd never told her this... and she'd been too afraid to ask... terrified he'd have a panic attack or flashback or something equally as horrible! And here he was, telling this practical stranger everything!

But more than the blow to her wounded pride, she wanted to know what had happened...

Hermione had already figured out what he was going to say.

"Did they...kill one of the hostages?" she surmised softly, barely audible.

Rowan nodded slightly. "Penny... not one of the hostages... they killed Penny..." he said vehemently, rubbing his face with a hand. "They... ordered her up against the wall, and shot her. The cameraman tried to get in the way, though... tried to shield her. He was shot in the arm, but that was all... He couldn't film the next message, so - so they made me - come forward and... I held it while Jerry read instead... That one got received properly. And they'd taken our names that time - to try and - to try and make it more threatening I suppose... Jerry had to read us out."

Demora closed her eyes.

She remembered that video. She still had a copy of it. Her mother had tried to burn it, but Demora had kept it, perhaps because she morbidly didn't want herself to ever forget that time, to ever take Rowan for granted for even a moment.

Hermione looked strained and reached up to soothe his hair. "Oh Rowan... I'm so sorry..." she said softly. "Poor Penny. Those greedy, heartless dogs!" she exclaimed vehemently. "What happened? Obviously a ransom was paid... right? You got out safely?"

"Money was sent... but it - it wasn't their intention to let us go... We could tell..."

Hermione looked horrified. "What other reason was there to keep you?!" she asked in outrage.

"None..."

Hermione paled. "They...intended to kill you?" she whispered softly.

Rowan nodded. "Jerry figured out a plan... he'd been noting down shift changes and things... working out when we could make a break for it... In the middle of the night, between guard duties, he - he got us all ready to go. We got into the hall... down a set of stairs... then someone came around a corner. I don't - remember after that..."

Hermione shook her head. "What do you mean? You had to have gotten out! You're here! Did they drag you out of there? Were you knocked unconscious?"

Rowan's breath hitched noticeably, and he folded his arms about himself. "I don't know I... No... I was just - I was running. Next thing was - I was running... through jungle ground. I was covered in blood... I don't know how I got out... I don't - I don't know how I got out... I just know none of the others made it with me."

Hermione looked pained and reached for him, hugging him tightly and soothing his hair. "Shh... it's okay, Rowan...it's okay. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry the others didn't make it. But you're safe now and... I know that must be hard to live with, but... I'm sure whatever happened, you did your best to save them..."

Demora cried silently for the second time in one night, but this time she didn't cry for herself, but rather for Rowan. She held a hand to her mouth silently, closing her eyes with her head bowed as she silently heard him tell Hermione the details she herself had longed to know, and cried for what had happened, knowing he'd been the only one to make it out, but not knowing how or why...

But she knew Rowan. She knew he would feel guilty for being alive when the others weren't. She knew he'd worry about the blood on him, whether it was that of his friends or that of someone he had harmed in his escape. She knew now why he panicked at loud noises, why he hated locked rooms and had initially panicked at the thought of facing the world.

She would have panicked too...

Rowan hugged Hermione back for the comfort, shaking badly, trying desperately to keep in control and to force back the images surfacing in his mind...

Demora wiped at her eyes frantically, trying to block out her own memories.

They had been shown the video... and within days they had heard that all the hostages had been killed. She could remember it all so clearly; how they had sat with the families of the other hostages while the police told them the news, how many had howled, her mother had cried and erupted into sobs, but Demora had been still and utterly silent.

She hadn't been able to speak. She had just tried to comfort their mother as best she could in numb, cold silence, feeling as though her world as she knew it had ended. In truth, she hadn't said a word until Rowan was back with them.

She hadn't believed it at first when she'd heard he'd been found. When she saw him, she'd just hugged him and clung helplessly, but he'd been so traumatised and for the longest time, it was a struggle to get him to come out of his room, to get him to eat, to get him to not panic over anything. He had left out the part of the recovery; the screaming nightmares, the severe depression, the refusal to eat...

The suicide attempt.

She winced softly and tried not to think of it, wiping at her eyes and wondering if Rowan was okay in there...

Rowan had started hyperventilating into Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione looked worried. "Rowan? Rowan, are you okay? Oh my god... calm down! Umm... oh dear..." she said helplessly.

Demora had had enough.

She stood up and made her way to the tent, entering quickly and rushed to the brunette. "Rowan! Rowan, calm down!" she soothed, and frowned at the girl until she moved out of the way and pushed the brunette down onto the sleeping back to lay down. "Just calm down, alright? Breathe!" she exclaimed and grabbed an antibacterial wipe and started to clean his nearest hand, knowing it was a soothing gesture.

"See now? You should have taken your pills on time like I said! Shhh... calm down, Ro..." she soothed softly in an almost whisper and took out his pills, tapping out the correct one and handed him a cup of water she'd conjured. "Try and take these. It will calm you down, alright?"

Rowan shakily sipped at the water, dizzy when he had to forgo fast breathing for a minute to do so, then downed the pills quickly too.

Demora soothed his dark hair and nodded, taking the water from him. "Good... good. That's good. Now just relax!" she soothed, reaching over to massage a shoulder gently. "Everything's fine now. You're safe. We're going to a nice, warm castle tomorrow, okay? Just close your eyes and breathe..." she said in soft, soothing tones.

Rowan did so, and after a few minutes of closed eyes, his breaths were skipping over each other in panic, and had slowed to nearly-normal.

Demora nodded and bent to kiss his forehead. "Good... okay, that's better..." she soothed and reached for his blanket, pulling it over him warmly. "You should rest now, alright?"

Rowan felt dizzy and drained. He had one hand over his chest, and the other gripping his blanket. "My heart's racing..." he murmured blearily, drained and disorientated enough to be a bit muzzy.

Demora looked worried and reached over to place her hand over his chest under his warm hand and felt the pounding heart beat. She nodded darkly. "It's okay. It will pass. Just a palpitation from your panic. Your medication should help, okay?" she said softly. "Try to sleep. It will slow down in a minute."

"Make.. it stop..." Rowan breathed, eyes closed.

Demora looked confused. "Make it stop racing?" she asked softly.

"No... just... make it stop," Rowan mumbled, sounding strained, but he was then asleep...

Demora looked stricken... as though she'd been slapped.. and she closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to sting, shaking silently in terror at his words.

He'd tried to make it stop before... and for a moment... he'd succeeded.

She fussed with his covers for several moments with shaking hands, before she abruptly left the tent, her breaths coming faster, gasping in air quickly because she needed to breathe.

She was on the verge of her own panic attack...

Hermione looked pained and confused as she exited the tent and regarded the girl warily. "Are... you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Demora snapped tensely, putting away the soup bowl and generally cleaning up. She swore when she spilled the soup on the ground and bent to retrieve the utensils she'd dropped.

Hermione, despite her dislike for the girl, could see she was obviously upset and bent to help, watching her carefully.

"What did he mean by that?" she asked softly at last.

Demora paused, kneeling in the dirt and abruptly abandoned the silverware, closing her eyes and burying her face in a hand to hide it shamefully from the girl.

She'd be damned if she saw her cry.

"He wants... to die..." she whispered shakily, almost brokenly. "Oh god..." she said softly and collapsed onto the ground, sitting on it and looked stricken. "What am I going to do?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "To die? What? What do you mean he wants to die?! Why would he want to die?"

Demora laughed softly, bitterly and looked at the girl as if she were stupid... which she obviously was.

"Weren't you listening? Or was that fake sympathy you were pouring on in there for his benefit? You think you can just go through something like that and not come out traumatised?! He's been through hell and back!" she exclaimed, her voice taking on an edge again.

"I've been there! Every step of the way I've seen him suffer! Do you know what it's like to wake up every morning and wonder if someone you love will even make it out of bed?! If they'll eat? Or if they'll just stay the rest of the day in their room, hiding under the covers? And if you say the wrong thing, or make the wrong noise, they'll scream and scream and cry and beg until you can't take it any more and you're crying just as hard as they are! Of course he wants to die! He blames himself because he lived and they didn't!" she exclaimed shakily and looked strained, turning to look at the fire, almost vaguely.

"And if he still feels that way, he could try it again..."

Hermione looked stricken and frankly quite shocked. She had never really seen anyone who was... messed up... before. Harry had been through a lot, but he was strong and resilient and if he was traumatised, it didn't seem to affect him. He was too much of an optimist, and while he may brood for a while and grieve, he moved on. He didn't hide under the covers... or scream and cry... or become suicidal.

"I didn't realize..." she said softly. "I mean, I knew he was obviously - I mean, what happened in there--" she stammered, obviously inadequate.

Demora looked strained. "What happened in there was a dream compared to what I've seen," she said softly, and stood up, taking the plates with her and putting them in the bag after charming them clean, and looked over her shoulder at the girl.

"I'm going to tell you this once and once only," she said softly. "Stay away from my brother. I won't let you or anyone else hurt him. He can be hurt so easily and one more hurt could drive him over the edge!"

Hermione frowned. "What makes you think I'll hurt him?"

Demora's eyes narrowed. "Do you plan to marry him, Miss Granger? Have his babies?"

Hermione blinked. "I barely know him!"

"Don't give me that!" Demora snapped tensely. "Don't think I don't know. I saw how you behaved when that redhead came out of that place. I saw that look in your eye," she said softly. "You have feelings for him. And so what? You're going to use my brother to make him jealous? Or is he just a step on your ladder to greater things?"

Hermione stiffened. "It's not like that."

Demora raised a blond eyebrow. "Oh no?" she asked and came forward, looking at the girl squarely. "Well, it better not be. I'm giving you a free piece of advice, Miss Granger. If there's even a chance you could hurt Rowan... the remotest possibility that you can't love him with your whole heart and soul and spend the rest of your life loving him and pampering and having his babies... then walk away," she said firmly.

"I mean it, just walk away! Because he's sweet and kind and innocent in a way you could only dream of and he'll develop feelings for you and attachments and if you hurt him you'll answer to ME understand?!" she hissed, shaking tensely. "He deserves the best... and if that's not you... go away."

Hermione swallowed thickly, nodding in understanding. "Okay..." she said softly. "Alright, Dora... I understand."

Demora nodded firmly. "Good," she said softly and silently turned to make her way back into the tent, watching Rowan sleeping for a few minutes, her heart aching for him... and almost a little for herself.

What was wrong with her? Why was she behaving like an irrational idiot?! She was protective yes... but not to the point of murder! And she'd imagined about twenty different ways of killing Granger tonight. She sighed heavily, trying to dismiss it as paranoia, and after Rowan's statement tonight, she had every reason to be.

She slipped into her pyjamas and stayed up, listening to him breathe, watching him sleep silently, noticing how the moonlight cast an almost eerie glow to his pale skin, how his dark hair hung over his beautiful features and silently wished herself over next to him, curled up warmly at his side.

Something was definitely not right with this picture, and she spent a long time trying to ignore it, before she finally fell asleep, exhausted and drained.

* * *

Authors Note: Okay... phew. Lots has happened; the rescue has succeeded but will Ron be ok? Draco has met his twin sister, will she get the guts to tell him who she is? All in all, how was it? Let me know! Take a moment to review :-) 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Nothing mine. All JK's, cept Rowan and Demora etc.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes**

-Chapter Seven-

* * *

Rowan was the first awake in the morning... He was wearing in his green t-shirt and blue jeans with his hair brushed (he ran his hands through it a lot), and his bags were packed in record time, not wanting to hold anyone up later.

His memories of the previous night had grown a little hazy... He did recall revealing details to Hermione, and he remembered starting to panic with her, but then he remembered being soothed to lay down and assured, and that gave him hope... Maybe this meant he hadn't scared her off! And if that was the case, well... then who knew what would happen?

He hummed softly to himself as he poured water on the fire to put it out, being sure not to stand in the way of any ash, and then wiped his hands anyway just to be sure...

Draco came out of his tent, looking a little worse for wear... and hating that Rowan looked pristine and perfect.

"Good morning!" said Rowan.

"Phhft... merg... bah..."

"Not a morning person?"

"Not in the forest..."

"Don't see why that should make a difference! I love everything about mornings," Rowan chirped.

"...How about we test that theory by the most violent method I can think of?" Draco murmured, going over to a rock with a deep large enough to have collected some rain, and using that to wet his face.

Rowan cringed at Draco's method of washing his face. "It's probably not a good idea to do that... Here - use an anti-bacterial wipe!" he urged.

Draco just gave him a look, then tugged his t-shirt straighter carefully. It was white; that in and of itself was startling for him (not that Rowan would appreciate his sacrifice) but on top of that, he was wearing pale-blue jeans rather than black ones. Ugh... He looked so - common...

On the other hand, he didn't look bad, just really... normal... Normal as in casual, not normal as in average. Draco was sure he'd always look at least a little above average whatever he wore...

The t-shirt he had sized down a little so it didn't look too ridiculously baggy, but the jeans had fit just perfectly, tight at the waist and close-fitting but comfortable all the way down... If he had to dress like a peasant, at least it suited him remarkably well.

Draco rubbed an eye, and then paused, looking at his hand, getting an odd feeling... and a faint wisp of a memory or a dream... hmm... He shook his head, trying to dismiss it, then ran a hand back through his neat, platinum-blond hair.

"Are you making anything for breakfast?" he drawled.

"Not for my benefit," Rowan replied.

"Well... I'm hungry," Draco said.

"Good for you," said Rowan.

Draco frowned a bit and shifted. "Well... make something then!"

"Why? I'm not hungry..."

"But I am!"

Rowan smiled faintly. "Not my problem... Besides, you don't want to eat anything I make... I wouldn't give my food to a dying man. It would only usher his exit from this world!"

"How appetising..."

Rowan chuckled softly. "Let me go and see if Dora's ready to wake up yet. If she gets up, maybe she'll be willing to heat something up for you... providing you ask her more nicely than you asked me..."

Draco narrowed his eyes, waited for Rowan to go into the tent, then raised his middle finger to his back.

The brunette knelt down beside his sister and gently shook her shoulder. "Dora?" he whispered, and waited expectantly. When nothing happened, he smiled wryly and shifted until he was lying down on the tent floor beside the sleeping bag, head propped by a hand, and slowly rubbed the tip of her nose with a forefinger, knowing that tickled her like crazy.

"Mmm... grrroofff!!" she mumbled sleepily, reaching over to wipe at her nose and mumbled tiredly, curling up into her pillow tighter.

Rowan smiled, and gently stroked her forearm slowly with the side of his finger until it gave her Goosebumps, which it always did for some reason. "Doorrraaa..." he breathed. "Wakey-wakey..."

Demora felt the touch which sent a tingle up her spine and she was lost in disturbing, odd dreams which made her sigh and rather than wake up, she shifted and curled up closer to Rowan, almost cuddling him and buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent deeply.

"Mmmm..." she murmured contentedly.

Rowan raised an eyebrow slightly, and smiled in baffled amusement. "Demora... wake up," he whispered, stroking her hair back from her face softly, the silky strands slipping through his fingers like water...

"Mmm?" she murmured and frowned as she felt hands in her hair. Her heart was beating faster and there was an awareness crawling along her skin like electricity. She knew that smell. Like Christmas, cookies and chocolate all rolled into one...

Rowan.

"Wha--?" she asked, pulling back and blinking at him blearily. "Rowan?" she asked, tired after having only had a few hours' sleep and rubbed at an eye, sitting up on an arm. "What time is it?" she asked tiredly, always anal about the time and trying to get used to the light coming in the tent... and figure out why she'd been cuddling Rowan as if he were her own personal teddy bear!

"Time to rise and shine... nearly nine..." Rowan rhymed, and smiled, leaning over to give her a standard cheery good morning kiss on the cheek, then smoothed her hair, a bit mussed from sleep. "Good morning..."

Demora frowned at his cheery kiss. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost warily. Didn't he remember what happened last night?!

"I'm nifty! And you?"

Demora looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Nifty?" she asked dryly. "You're... nifty?" she asked and sighed, shaking her head, not understanding. "Right. Well... glad you're 'nifty'. You weren't 'nifty' last night," she muttered, pushing the covers back and standing up to grab some clothes.

Rowan hadn't heard, and rolled up her sleeping bag for her while she pulled jeans on under her nightshirt. "I had a wonderful talk with Hermione last night... I got detailed - you know how I hate detail - and it just sort of poured out... just like it had been waited to pour out to someone... and then I panicked and she soothed me and put me to bed! Least I think that's the order... But she can't have been scared off then! Isn't that wonderful? I might actually have a chance at a normal, healthy relationship..."

Demora turned and frowned. "She soothed you and put you to bed?" she demanded and looked tense. "And what do you mean it had been waiting to pour out? You never told me you wanted to talk about it! I thought you'd... you know... get upset!"

"So did I... and I did! So we were right... But I didn't want to talk about it, that's why I didn't until it became clear I had to be honest with Hermione," Rowan supplied. "But I tell you what... I'll tell you everything I told her later, once this stuff blows over, alright?" he offered, rightly interpreting some of her indignance.

Demora nodded. "Yeah...okay..." she said softly, something twisting bitterly at his enthusiasm over Hermione. She shook her head with a dark frown and pulled off her night shirt, clad in just a bra and her jeans and pulled on a black shirt which was low cut and no doubt the kind of thing her mother would have killed her to see her in, but she didn't care right now. She wanted to look good because her ego was bruised and she was in sore need of a pick me up! It was a lousy morning...

"Have you seen my brush?"

Rowan was bent forward, packing the sleeping bag away. "Mmm? Oh... no, haven't seen it."

Demora waved a hand dismissively, and for some reason was all the more annoyed that she could just change in front of him and he didn't even say 'Dora, privacy please!' or something along those lines.

She was scowling as she exited the tent, her blond hair still mussed from sleep but it was long and straight and still managed to look good despite the absence of a brush. She paused when she saw her twin, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. Casual... very casual!

He looked good. But then, he was her twin, she thought a bit vainly. And she was pleased to see he was handsome and would probably look good in a paper bag that had been dipped in dog poo.

"Hey..." she greeted softly, reaching for the hot water she saw someone had put on and made herself some tea to try and wake herself up.

"Hello," Draco turned, having been packing his bag neatly and looking at his picture again. He blinked once... looked over his shoulder at the photo, then at Demora again, with a slightly narrower vision, before he wet his lips and cleared his throat (and mind). "Rough start?"

Demora scoffed. "Understatement..." she muttered. "I hate mornings. And I hate cheery, chipper morning people! And I couldn't find my brush this morning," she pouted.

"I dislike mornings if I've been sleeping," Draco agreed, and couldn't agree more about cheery morning people - unsubtle hint. As for the brush, he hummed and felt about in his bag carefully, then held out a comb. "Fairly rudimentary, but it ought to do..."

Demora looked as if he'd handed her a drink from the fountain of youth.

"Oh... bless you!" she exclaimed, taking the comb and running it through her hair, careful to get the tangles out.

Draco looked dry, and sat down carefully on a log, tugging his white t-shirt uneasily, wishing it had long sleeves because the white material made his arms look skinnier somehow. He again caught sight of the picture frame in his bag, and hastily pulled the bag closed to hide it from his view..

Demora finished combing through her hair and handed it back, sighing in satisfaction.

"As you say... crude, but definitely effective. Hungry?" she asked, going over to start fixing breakfast, almost as though anticipating a request, or perhaps just because she was hungry herself.

"Very," Draco admitted quietly. Yay! A neat and tidy food-making person... He liked her more with every passing minute.

Demora smiled slightly and started cooking. "I'm not into heavy stuff so if you're looking for a four course breakfast you're on your own. Besides, with this... crude... equipment, we'll be lucky if it's edible. If I never have to spend a night in the forest among nature again, it will be too soon! Give me a hotel with five star room service any day!"

"Mm," said Draco casually.

Demora laughed in amusement, shaking her head at him and stirring the eggs. "There you go with that again," she said softly.

"With what again?"

"Your one word, non-committal answers. 'Mmm'... 'ah'... 'oh'..." she drew out in tease.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't under the impression there was a minimum syllable count for conversations with you..."

"There isn't of course," Demora replied with a shrug, putting the omelette in front of him. "Juice? Milk? Tea?"

"Nothing for now," Draco assured, holding the fork and eating with very careful precision.

Demora watched him eating carefully, almost fascinated by watching him eat, before she got an omelette for herself.

"We should try and make good time today," she said softly. "We'll stop to rest, of course, if you need to. That's not an insult!" she assured quickly before he could take it as such. "Just letting you know that it's okay to stop if you want to."

Draco hummed, then shook his head. "There may be a way around that... I took a look at the map this morning in my tent. We are almost directly between two towns. If we head on a little further until we are precisely between them, we should be able to apparate... If we apparated from here, it would be a noticeable position, an oddity... but between two sites, fairly common, and wouldn't arouse suspicions of people keeping an eye out for movements of this kind..."

Demora nodded, looking impressed. "A reasonable deduction. Quite brilliant," she assured.

Draco smiled thinly. "I thought so," he replied, then got rid of the last of his omelette and cleaned the plate and cutlery himself (he was a rebel) before packing that away in the supply bag and knocking on the outside of Hermione's tent. "Granger, wake up!"

Demora smiled wickedly in satisfaction at the girl's rude awakening. Ha..

"Ugh..." Hermione groaned at the rude awakening and poked her head out of the tent, frowning. "What is it?! Haven't you ever heard of waking someone up gently? Or at least, politely?"

"Polite enough to my way of thinking," Demora approved, examining a nail idly. "Get up! Get dressed. Comb that bush on top of your head. We're leaving in a few minutes."

Hermione glared, but didn't argue. She was eager to see how Ron was doing.

She emerged less than five minutes later, fully-dressed, and started packing up everything. "How is Rowan this morning?" she asked Demora.

"Nifty," Demora said dryly.

Hermione frowned. "Nifty? But you said... last night I mean!"

"I know. That was then, this is now... and apparently now he's 'nifty'," she retorted. "Draco, no!" she exclaimed, rushing to the blond. "Put that down! Just... relax, okay? I'll get it!" she assured, not wanting him to over-exert himself and grabbed the supplies from him.

Draco frowned a little, a cross between unnerved and annoyed. "I wasn't going to do anything naughty," he said, raising his chin indignantly with an automatic defensive attitude.

"Hello, hello! What's all this then? We nearly ready?" Rowan asked, coming out and packing his tent. He saw Hermione and flushed. "Morning, Hermione..." he greeted, going over to raise and kiss the back of her hand in a way that was both charming but casual as well, almost as if that was the usual thing to do. "Did you sleep okay?"

Demora dropped the supplies... right on Draco's foot.

"Ow! Harpy!"

"Sorry!!" Demora exclaimed, bending to pick up the supplies and glaring daggers at Hermione's back.

Draco wincingly helped her pick things up, realising it was a mistake - rather than intentional...

"Your brother has taken a proper shine to her then, I see."

"There's nothing shiny about her.." Demora muttered, watching as Hermione flushed and the two flirted. "Ugh... disgusting!" she said darkly. "Sorry about your foot..." she murmured, picking things up and wishing she could aim the pot in her hand at Hermione's head.

Draco hummed shrewdly, getting up as well and hoisting his satchel and a supply bag (a small one) over his shoulders. "Are we ready?" he drawled pointedly.

Rowan looked around distractedly, "Mmm?"

Draco walked over and got between him and Hermione deliberately. "Are - we - ready? Do you read me? Or perhaps I ought to put it in writing?"

Rowan frowned. "Alright! Yes, we're ready..." he rolled his eyes, and was about to go back to saying something to Hermione, but Draco grasped his arm and pulled him off in the other direction.

"No-no... you two are being separated for the good of the class," he said with a sardonic look, and led the way.

Demora smiled thinly, following the two males and tripped Hermione deliberately, making her stumble.

"Oops! How clumsy of me. I must have forgotten you were going to be walking there." she said softly and grasped the girl's arm, walking with her. "Just like you seem to have forgotten our conversation last night!" she hissed.

Hermione glared, yanking her arm out of Demora's and frowning as she walked indignantly onward. "I haven't forgotten a thing. And I haven't done anything wrong! Is it my fault he came out and acted all charming and sweet?" she asked, frankly weary of this. She was worried about Ron, trying not to be worried about Ron, and she still had to contend with this mad sister who was apparently worse than ten mothers combined when it came to protecting Rowan!

"Don't give me that," Demora muttered as they walked. "You were just egging him on! He thinks you were the one who soothed him and put him to bed last night. Ha! I'd love to see that. You wouldn't know how to deal with trauma if it slapped you in the face!"

Hermione went pink. "That is not true! How dare you!" she hissed, walking on ahead in a huff and determined to ignore the girl the rest of the way.

But her words stuck with her.

It was true, she had panicked when Rowan had had his panic attack. She had never dealt with anyone's actual trauma before. She'd never needed to! But... Ron had been through something traumatic, and she was his friend.

She started to worry that she wouldn't be able to help him through it. What if Dora was right and she truly was shallow and naive in that regard? She frowned, wondering if there were books on trauma...

In any case, she needed to get to Hogwarts. She liked Rowan, but she wouldn't be able to rest or focus on anything until she was sure Ron was safe. Once his life was secured, then she could start picking up the pieces of her own.

She just hoped that he'd made it.

* * *

Severus held the stethoscope to Ron's chest, listening to his heart which, last night, had been erratic and weak but this morning, after hovering at his bedside and feeding him potions, drugs and every charm imaginable, was weak... but far more stable than it had been.

His blood pressure was up, his vitals were low but within safety limits and his breathing was much more even. He still looked like a cross between a mummy and a zombie, but he was alive... and Severus was confident he would remain so.

"I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it myself..." Severus began, addressing the brunette, who had also remained at Ron's side with him the entire night. And what an odd night it had been!

The two of them, both harbouring enough resentment to fill oceans, had temporarily put aside their differences in order to care for Ron. Potter had even helped... a little. Severus would grudgingly admit he'd been less useless than he normally was.

And the results were before them.

"What?" Harry asked tensely, his eyes tired from only having slept a few hours last night. He was drained and weary, emotionally wrung-out, but he was still going... and he would keep going until he felt it was safe to do otherwise.

Severus bit a lip. "I think he's going to be alright," he informed softly. "Understand he is going to need several days rest, of course! And there's no telling what kind of psychological trauma he's suffered," he informed, his eyes going an odd shade of black at his words. "The Dark Lord implements tortures that do not always have anything to do with the body. We can only hope his mind is intact and that whatever was done to him is not permanent."

Harry winced softly, nodding. "Right..." he said shakily and took in and let out a long sigh of relief... and yet he was still tense with worry, now concerned about Ron's state of mind.

Severus hummed, adjusting the settings on the monitor. "You should rest, Potter. You're starting to look like an inferi."

"I'm starting to feel like one too..." Harry said dryly and shook his head. "No. I'm fine. I - I want to stay up until Draco gets back anyway," he said softly and wrung his hands anxiously. "I hope they're okay. Hermione's with him though! And Rowan and that other girl."

Severus frowned darkly. "Yes. You mentioned them last night. You're sure they can be trusted?"

"Rowan can. He saved us both!" Harry exclaimed and smiled almost dreamily. "Quite brilliantly too," he added.

Severus hummed in thought, unaware that the object of their discussion had just walked into the infirmary.

Demora had never seen anything like Hogwarts and had been enchanted upon entering the lovely castle, almost wishing she'd been able to go to school here too with Draco! But she paused when she saw the man in black hovering by the redhead and paled starkly in recognition, gasping softly.

"Sevvy..." she whispered softly, barely audibly, and she could only stare as her mind took her back in time. She had not had as much contact with the man known only to her as 'Uncle Sevvy', simply because her mother had taken charge of her most of the time.

But she remembered him clearly simply because she'd had so very few male figures in her life, and he had been the one and only nice one. She remembered he used to slip her sweets in secret, and the few times he had babysat her and Draco, he'd let her crawl up into his lap and had read to her. In fact, he'd taught her how to read! And he'd tucked her into bed... and she had secretly loved him for making her twin feel better when he was sick.

She could scarcely believe it was him, and wondered if he might recognize her...

"Ron!!" Hermione exclaimed, and flew into the infirmary once she saw him in the bed, rushing to his side, tears suddenly filling her eyes and she reached for one of his bandaged hands, and looked up at Harry and Severus almost pleadingly.

"He'll be okay?" she asked, her voice wavering fearfully.

Severus met the girl's eyes and nodded curtly. "He had a rough night, but I think he's going to be fine. If Potter had been a few seconds later, it might have been a different story entirely though."

Harry blinked, wondering if that was a compliment (for the idea was so odd; Snape giving a compliment!) but he took it as such and smiled flushingly, looking at Hermione sympathetically. "He's going to be alright... physically anyway. Snape says they could have done other things to him... psychologically speaking. We won't know until he wakes up."

Hermione nodded shakily and closed her eyes, resting her forehead to Ron's hand, her eyes stinging.

Thank Merlin...

Her heart pounded in relief and further fear for Ron's state of mind. But he was alive! That was more than she could have asked for. She was grateful... so grateful! So long as he was alive, she'd be okay...

"Right..." she said softly, lifting her head and forcing a small, trembling smile. "I - umm... I need to go to the library," she said softly, pausing to stare at Ron almost distantly for a moment, her eyes shadowed. "I'll be there if anyone needs me."

Harry nodded, wondering at her look. She seemed relieved... and yet somehow horribly sad... He watched her leave the infirmary, before turning his attention to Rowan, Draco and the girl. He smiled at all of them as much as he could manage. "You made it. We were beginning to worry."

"Beginning?!" Severus snapped. "Potter, you underestimate the situation! Draco!" he barked with a frown and folded his arms, glaring at the boy sternly with a look that every father somehow instinctively knew how to give.

"Just what the hell do you have to say for yourself, young man? Lying, violating a court order, which is a felony, by the way! Not to mention putting your own life in danger by going to - no! I don't even want to know where you went! I don't want to think of what could have happened! Well?! You have one minute! Make it good!"

Draco said nothing... In fact, he just raised an eyebrow slightly, expertly conveying his incredulity and completely nonplussed attitude...

Severus looked at him sternly. "That's it? You come back after two days out in the open where every Death Eater and his dog could have killed you and you give me this look and that's all you have to say?"

Draco considered. "...I'm wearing in these jeans quite nicely," he elaborated.

Severus' lips twitched in amusement and he rolled his eyes at himself, before doing something altogether unexpected and shocking.

He reached forward and pulled the boy into a hug and sighed. "Well done..." he said softly in resignation at last.

Draco tensed up and blinked a few times in quick succession, his sign that he was in shock... Well done?!

...Should he violate the rules of his containment more often?

Severus smiled slightly. "Oh no. Don't misunderstand me; you're in trouble for lying to me and violating the rules! You get detention for a week. But as for the cause..." he trailed and smiled slightly.

"Very well done, Draco. I don't approve of risking your neck like that and it was very, very dangerous and you're lucky to be alive and I don't even want to think of what could have happened, but you're here in one piece and I can't fault your motives nor your methods entirely so... well done. Now... go get yourself cleaned up and get some rest. You look exhausted."

Draco didn't move, continuing to stare at him for a moment, almost warily, as if waiting for a punch line.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Am I not speaking English? I said 'well done'! I'm very proud of you, but don't you ever lie to me again or I'll have you cleaning potion bottles and writing lines out of the dictionary! Now go on! Get some rest. Potter, translate!"

Harry smiled slightly in amusement and relief. "He's pleased. You can go," he translated simply.

Draco glanced at Potter, pretty much for the first time since he'd come in, and said, "Ah" simply, before smiling thinly and adjusting his satchel on his t-shirt clad shoulder. He still looked confused, having never been freely praised before... but was getting the gist...

"I shall see you all anon, then!" he drawled, waving a hand in general, meeting Demora's gaze briefly for a second, before he left to get some well-earned rest.

Demora met Draco's eyes briefly and felt almost uncomfortable, as though he were seeing right through her, and then cleared her throat, oddly amused by the scene, and frankly glad Draco had someone looking after him.

"Ahem..." she said pointedly to the brunette.

"Oh! Right. Umm... Professor, this is Rowan Chambers. Rowan, this is Professor Severus Snape, the Headmaster. And Professor this is... umm..." he trailed.

"Demora," she said softly, and met the man's gaze. "My name is Demora."

Severus paled starkly, meeting the girls grey eyed gaze, taking in her blond hair, and the features which were familiar and yet not. He shook his head numbly for a moment, looking as though he might faint...

Rowan smiled a little, hands in his tight jeans pockets, "--And what a lovely castle you have!" he said brightly, to break the ice.

Severus couldn't break his gaze away from the girl at first, but he managed it at that and managed a thin smile. "Not my castle," he murmured. "I'm just keeping it safe for someone else. Nice to meet you, Rowan," he said, extending a hand for a shake. "I owe you a debt of gratitude it seems."

"Really?" Rowan asked, blinking and looking at the hand, before reaching into his pocket, taking out a wipe, and giving Severus' hand a rub before shaking it firmly. "If you say so!"

Severus glanced down at his hand and looked wry. "Germ-conscious?" he asked curiously.

"Obsessive-compulsive," Rowan admitted, with a small shrug of slim shoulders. "Among other things," he added, smiling despite a faint shadow to his bright blue eyes. "And if you mean you owe me gratitude for my part in bringing all of this weird and wonderful adventure about -- I accept the gratitude, I've earned it for once, I think... But no thanks are necessary! Thank you anyway," he said merrily, "-and I'm rambling... I'm going to shut up now."

Severus smiled slightly in amusement. "Obsessive compulsion; I'm familiar with it. But I suppose it's better to be that than not concerned about germs and transference of them at all. As a student of potions and medicine I appreciate paranoia in all its forms," he said wryly.

"And yes, I do wish to thank you. You saved Draco's life, Potter's life and Ronald's. That's a tall order for one so young. You're welcome to stay here as long as you like..." he trailed and glanced at Demora. "I'm sure we can find... much to discuss..." he said softly.

Demora flushed and nodded. "We'd like that, thank you," she said softly, linking her arm with Rowan's. "It's okay if we stay for a while then? I'll write to Mother and let her know."

Rowan looked a bit uneasy. "Stay here... for a while? As in... an extended while?" he asked, looking uneasy. "In a school? With... so many other people? Oh my gosh, just think of the door handles," he fretted slightly, the number of hands to have touched everything truly dizzying.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You will find in this castle that most doors open via password or on their own without the need for touching, and I'm sure what door handles there are can be easily decontaminated."

"Please, Rowan?" Demora asked softly. "You can make some friends here... and Mother would be so pleased to hear you're being social! And... well, it will be hard for me to stay here for any length of time without you. If it gets too much we can leave," she assured. "At least it's not a forest this time, right?" she asked brightly.

Rowan looked around for a moment, somewhat distracted... "--And the doors themselves," he continued, almost as if he hadn't heard, though he honestly had. "What if - what if one closes and I get stuck in a room? Or - what if I'm outside a door and I can't get into a room! I don't know, Dora... I don't know..." he said, a bit more fretfully, and it was right on time too... his next dose of anxiety medication being due as his previous dose wore off.

Demora looked worried and, already having glanced at the time and noticing it was time for his medication (hence her obsession with time - making sure she kept Rowan on schedule!), she guided him to a chair and sat him down, gently taking out his pills and handing him two.

"Rowan, calm down, alright? You're not going to get stuck inside a room! It's just like our school in France where the doors open by password or you can do so by pointing your wands at them or something. It'll be fine..." she assured.

Harry hovered worriedly and frowned. "Is he okay?" he asked softly.

"He's fine. Just a little stressed," Demora assured.

"Does he need to lay down?!"

"No, he's fine!"

"Are you sure? He looks pale!"

"He's always pale."

"But he's got--"

"I said he's fine!" Demora exclaimed. Merlin! Was everyone obsessed with her brother?! He'd even got the guys after him now!

Rowan anxiously looked at Harry. "I've got what? What were you going to say? Is it deadly? It's deadly, isn't it? Oh, there go the palpitations..." he winced a bit.

Severus frowned. "Is he always like this?"

"Oh no!" Demora assured. "No, usually it's much worse."

"I just meant you've got shaking hands," Harry assured. "Nothing serious! Nothing deadly!"

"Shh... calm down, Rowan..." Demora soothed. "You're not dying, I promise. Here... take your medication. Then we'll go find a room, okay?"

Rowan looked uneasy, but drew a calming breath, nodded and took the pills with some water. He stayed sitting for a moment, because dizziness was a common side-effect, then stood up carefully and tugged his green t-shirt straighter over his jeans and looked more docile. "Alright... we can stay," he murmured, reasonably. "But you owe me a big neck massage for this one..."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Neck massage?"

Demora smiled thinly... almost smugly. "Yes. And don't worry, I'll give you the best massage ever!" She wondered if he'd like a fully body massage. She was shocked at herself... and flushed.

Severus looked dry. "I'll show you to your rooms."

"I can show them!"

"Potter, you'd get lost in a five by nine closet. Go tend to Ronald!" Severus said tensely.

Harry looked chastised. "I'll see you later, Rowan..." he muttered poutingly and returned to Ron's side, supposing it best he stay there anyway.

Rowan smiled a bit, and just because he felt bad for him, went over to hug the brunette briefly from the side. "See you later!" he agreed, and wandered off to catch up with Demora and the tall, dark and creepy guy while he wiped his hands and wrists with a wipe.

Harry grinned brightly.

His day just got a lot better!

* * *

Severus led Demora and Rowan up the stairs and down several corridors before finally opening a door to a suite with a living room, private kitchen and two bedrooms that branched off from the main one.

Demora whistled slowly as she stepped inside. "Now this is what I'm talking about!"

Severus smiled slightly. "There's two bedrooms, private bathroom and your own kitchen so you don't have to depend on the kitchens. This is usually reserved for political dignitaries and the like, but it's not in use now. I trust you two will be comfortable." he assured, glancing at Rowan and more concerned with whether or not it met his OCD standards.

Rowan and chewing a fingernail in unconscious habit... "This is for us?" he asked, in slight confusion. "We're not dignitaries... not in the least bit important. And I don't even go to school here - or anywhere... I can't stay here, surely."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Why not?" he asked curiously, smiling slightly in amusement. "It's the least I can do for the young man who saved Draco's life," he said softly. "I want the two of you to be comfortable."

Rowan smiled faintly. "Only happens when I'm unconscious..." he assured.

Demora's eyes darkened at that and she smiled thinly. "It's lovely Se-Professor. Thank you," she said softly. "Isn't it lovely, Rowan?"

Rowan nodded. "Oh yes... it's lovely," he agreed, inching over to be near his sister, somewhat dependently.

Demora linked her arm with his and gently reached up to kiss his cheek. "It'll be fine..." she assured him softly and sighed. "Why don't you go charm the place clean, okay?" she urged, knowing he probably wanted to and wouldn't relax until he'd made sure the place was up to his standards.

Rowan relaxed marginally at the idea and nodded, quickly going to the nearest bedroom, drawing his wand to clean it like crazy.

Demora made sure the door was open so she could see him and hear him if necessary, but suddenly found herself alone with the headmaster and smiled shakily, almost awkwardly as she folded her hands in front of her, twisting them nervously.

"Umm... hi," she said softly, almost shyly.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Hi?" he asked softly and regarded her with dark, intense eyes. "Demora, I have thought you dead these past eleven years. Your brother has been slowly eaten away with grief and now suddenly you appear... not six years old, but a young girl blossoming into a young woman! And all you can say is 'hi'?"

Demora smiled shakily, her eyes looking almost glassy. "I missed you?" she tried softly. "I - I'm not quite sure what to say," she admitted softly. "I was raised by the Chambers. I was told Draco was dead. I didn't know to question it until just recently," she said softly and looked almost hesitant. "Are you angry with me?"

Severus looked to the heavens as though for strength, shaking his head and came forward to hug her as he'd done Draco. "No... of course I'm not angry with you!" he exclaimed, letting out a sigh. "I'm in shock! I - I just - I can't believe it!" he exclaimed.

He had secretly mourned her, having grown attached her though admittedly not able to form as close relationship with her as he had Draco, simply because her mother had been so protective! But he had grieved, and now he felt strange, as though his heart were expanding in joy and relief.

It was an odd sensation for someone not used to tender feelings and he pulled back and cupped her chin. "Same eyes.. same face mostly. Do you still throw tantrums as wonderfully as you used to?"

Demora smiled brilliantly and nodded. "Of course. They always worked on you." she pointed out. "You were the one who taught me how to use tears to my advantage. You could never say no when I cried!"

Severus smiled thinly and wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders in an almost paternal gesture, guiding her to the sofa. "Does Draco know?"

Demora sighed heavily, leaning into his side, finding it odd how she could be so comfortable with him all over again, as though she'd never been away at all.

"No..." she said softly, taking a seat on the sofa. "No, I - I haven't told him yet. I'm still not quite sure how. I didn't even know it was him until last night! Not for sure anyway. I suspected, of course," she said softly and looked at Severus intently. "Will you tell me about him? Please? I - I want to know everything! I want to know what I missed!"

Severus sighed heavily, looking a bit at a loss as he considered how to answer her.

Demora saw his hesitancy and winced softly. "It's okay. I've already seen some of his scars. I know that my - that he hurt him. I already knew that anyway," she said sadly, unable to bring herself to call that man her father.

Severus hummed softly. "Yes... he did. That has always been a constant in Draco's life; Lucius' cruelty. And in truth, Demora... I wish I could tell you that his life has contained other things, but it hasn't. Lucius has dominated his son's life completely. Every move Draco has made since he was born has been monitored, controlled and carefully picked apart."

"Tell me," Demora said softly, grey eyes dark and shadowed. "I want to know, please. I know it's probably horrible beyond imagining, but I feel like I should have been there to go through it with him," she said softly and scoffed bitterly, folding pale, thin arms. "While I was in a warm, caring environment, he was suffering," she said darkly.

Severus frowned and shook his head. "Draco would be glad to hear you didn't have to suffer as he did, Demora," he assured and sighed heavily, running a hand back through his dark hair and leaning forward over his knees slightly to stare at the coffee table in deep thought.

"Draco was... devastated... by what he and everyone believed to be your death," Severus said softly. "But naturally, of course, any expression of that grief was repressed for the sake of his own safety. But he changed that day; he became tenser, more withdrawn, less child-like and in some ways colder and more like his father," he said softly, dark eyes going distant.

"I thought we had lost him that day, to be quite honest. The tortures didn't seem to affect him as much; it was as if he could no longer be hurt any more than he already had been. He stopped reacting... started repressing pain to the extent that Lucius had to get more and more inventive just to get a reaction out of him. As he got older, the tortures escalated and got more severe," he said softly and winced.

"Demora, I'm not even sure I can describe to you the things Lucius did to him. Mostly I saw the results, not the actual torture itself. I've repaired every bone in his body, there's not an organ inside him that hasn't been at some point damaged or severely compromised. He's been skinned, stabbed, burned, boiled, frozen, stretched, pulled, and that's only in human form! Lucius once turned him into a mouse and put him in a room full of cats and let them play with him until he was near death before changing him back. He's been through every psychological torment Lucius could think of... and I don't think there's a torture he hasn't experienced. I've put eyes back in his sockets, I've restored severed limbs, taken him back from the brink of shock, replaced almost all the blood in his body through transfusion!" he exclaimed shakily and leaned back in the cushions of the sofa and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I suspect there could have even been sexual abuse."

Demora was shaking where she sat, looking paler and strained for her twin's sake. "Why didn't you do something?" she asked shakily. "I never understood why you didn't just - just take us both away!" she exclaimed, though she knew it was unfair to say so, but it had to be asked.

Severus met her grey eyes with his intense, shadowed dark ones. "I wanted to," he assured softly. "But I had to pretend to be Lucius' friend... his comrade in arms, so to speak. And if I had taken the two of you away to keep you safe, how long do you think it would have been before Lucius found us?" he asked softly and shook his head.

"No... it was too risky. You'd have both ended up dead, and I knew no matter what Lucius did to Draco, he wouldn't kill him. Not unless Draco did something that ultimately proved he was untrainable. So I waited and bided my time. I kept the boy alive, kept him going, did what I could for him when I could, without seeming too interested lest Lucius got suspicious," he said softly and looked at her intently. "Don't think I haven't suffered with him, Demora. Every time he was presented to me covered in blood and barely alive, I considered taking him away. And I knew ultimately what that would mean. He's been through hell... but he's alive," he said softly and bit a lip thoughtfully.

"And he's a good person, believe it or not. Through it all, he has somehow managed to maintain a semblance of conscience and decency," he said softly and shook his head in slow incredulity. "I had honestly feared for the worst sometimes. I knew he had been punished for letting his father's victims go once or twice, but that was a long time ago. I had feared Lucius had beaten it out of him. But today... he proved that wrong," he said softly and looked at her intently. "And you offer another hope, Demora. He needs to know you're alive."

Demora swallowed thickly. "I - I don't know how to tell him..." she said softly, curling her legs under her on the sofa. "I've been going on impulse, following him and - and trying to get to know him better. I - I just... I'm a little scared of his reaction," she said softly.

Severus frowned. "Scared or not, Demora... you are his twin sister! He's done without you for eleven years, which is longer than most wizarding twins go! Most when separated simply die of starvation, refusing to eat! You're lucky you're not identical or he would have probably died from the grief alone!"

Demora winced and nodded. "I know. I know..." she said softly and sighed. "I will tell him next time I see him, alright? I promise. Again... I didn't know for sure until last night when I saw he was carrying a picture of me," she informed and bit a lip, nodding. "But I'll tell him."

Severus nodded and gently reached for her hand, squeezing. "It's good to see you, Demora," he said softly. "I'm glad to know I didn't fail both of you."

Demora's grey eyes softened and she shook her head, reaching over to kiss his cheek. "You haven't failed anyone. Stop talking like that!" she said firmly.

Severus actually blushed and stood up, clearing his throat. "I have - umm... other duties to attend to. But if you need anything, just ask."

Demora nodded. "I will. Thank you," she said softly and smirked. "Uncle Sevvy..." she teased.

Severus winced for the nickname. "You are not to call me that in public."

"Sevvy! Seeeeevvy..."

"Demora..." Severus said warningly.

Demora laughed. "Thanks."

Severus nodded and left, closing the door behind him and letting out a shaky sigh.

And if his step was a little lighter and the shadows in his eyes had lightened just a bit, no one was around to notice.

* * *

Harry was grateful.

The thing to understand about Harry Potter was that when he felt grateful for anything, he felt the urge to thank the person, but not in the usual 'thank you card' way. That was just cliché! So he thought long and hard about what he could possibly do for Draco to pay him back for risking his neck and helping them find Ron!

And then, of course, there was the gratitude he still felt for the blond for sharing something personal with him the other night. So Harry had two things to be grateful for technically.

He figured bringing the blond up a proper meal would be first and foremost, and so after giving Draco time to sleep, he went upstairs shortly after lunchtime and knocked carefully on the bedroom door, carrying a tray of food he'd cooked himself, kept warm under a dish dome.

There was no answer however, so Harry frowned and peeked in, finding the room unoccupied, but there was a light on in the bathroom and the door was open just a crack, so Harry reasoned Draco was in there.

"Draco, it's just me!" Harry called, announcing his presence as he came in, closing the door behind him with his foot and put the tray down. "I just came to bring you some lunch, and I got you a present!" he called.

Gentle ripples of water movement ceased, then the sound of the plug being pulled... and after only a minute's pause, Draco opened the door a little wider, eyes narrowed in both intrigue and wary incredulity. "Present?" he asked.

Having just got out of the bath and barely spared a moment to put a clean bandage back onto his healing right side, Draco was only wearing a towel around his impossibly-thin waist, bony hips jutting from just over the edge. The entirety of his incredibly flat chest and abdomen and his long, bony arms were bare... His hair was wet as well, just brushed back off his face to avoid dripping into his eyes.

Harry lost the ability to think,

He was surprised he'd even retained the ability to stand! Or perhaps it was because he still had an arm braced on the table where he'd put the tray. But either way, Harry could only stare blankly for several moments, taking in Draco's fairly naked body in stunned incredulity.

His flat, pale chest had droplets of water cascading down it still, trailing down to his flat abdomen which was so thin that every muscle was defined, and Harry was momentarily fascinated by Draco's oddly adorable naval. The towel hung off his white, bony hips, and there was a crease visible just below them, outlining where his leg met his hip and trailed down, hinting at other things Harry didn't dare think about.

He noticed other things too; how Draco's hair got a shade darker when it was wet, how the clavicles of his chest seemed to have dips in which looked oddly sensitive and for an insane moment, Harry had the oddest urge to go over and see what would happen if he kissed there.

Kissed?!

Hell yes. Rowan, move the fuck over!

"You - you're hurt..." Harry managed at last, hoping that was as good excuse as any for the drawn-out silence. He noticed the bandage now, of course, seeing it was on his right side and hoped to heaven his voice didn't sound too choked.

Why was it suddenly so warm in here?!

Draco glanced down briefly, then up with a raised eyebrow. "Yes... Nothing gets past you, does it, Potter?" he drawled.

Harry had to fight the urge to flush. "Umm... well, I just - I didn't realize you had been hurt! Is it bad?" Harry asked, shaking himself mentally and telling himself to pull it together! It was just Draco!

A wet, sexy, pale as milk, smelling like soap, half-naked Draco.

Did he mention he was WET?

Draco shrugged, a very noticeable gesture with no shirt on. "I was stabbed before I went into the throne room, I believe..."

Harry frowned. "Why didn't you tell me?!" he demanded and came over, his hands surprisingly steady as he put one palm on Draco's bare skin, surprised to find it cool and damp and soft as rose petals. He gently lifted the edge of the bandage so he could see the healing wound.

He hissed in sympathy. "Ouch..." he said softly. "It still looks kind of bad, Draco! Did you put anything on it to help it heal?" he asked.

"Dora put some healing salve on it..." Draco drawled in dismissal.

Harry hummed. "Take a seat over there, okay?" he said, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a tube of ointment. "This should help. Ron's mother gave it to me for emergencies and I hear it's a miracle worker; apparently the Weasley twins swear by it!"

Draco frowned slightly, but sighed and allowed himself to be pushed into the seat not far from the bed. He made sure to arrange the towel so that it stayed on properly, but was tenser now, having rather wished he could have changed first.

Harry was of no such inclination, deciding he would enjoy the view while he could, and so knelt down on the floor next to the blond's chair and carefully removed the bandage, wincing at what looked like a hole in his side which was starting to heal over but very slowly. Harry took a considerable amount of the ointment in his hand and gently spread it over the wound, knowing it had numbing properties and very gently rubbing it on in hopes of helping him heal.

He didn't fail to notice the other scars on his body now that he was up close; light pink criss-crosses and swirls that covered him like a pattern, making Harry wonder just how on earth he'd gotten them. Some of them looked like they'd been deep...

"So how was everything on the way back? Aside from having to deal with this stab wound. Obviously you and Dora got along alright if you let her come anywhere near you," he commented softly.

"Yes, it wasn't that bad..." Draco drawled softly, tense but composed. "I don't particularly like that goober... Rowan... and I feel it only fair to warn you that keeping Granger away from Miss Chambers would be safest for anyone within their reach... But it wasn't a hard journey, mainly because we apparated after a little walking this morning."

Harry frowned slightly. "Why don't you like Rowan? He's not a goober! He's very sweet. And he saved our life! That was only an incredibly heroic and brave thing to do, you know." he said wryly with a small smile, continuing to rub the ointment on and fascinated to see that the wound was already looking better.

"And who got us all the way there? Who led you through the woods, got you in safely... allowed you to reunite with your carrot-headed weasel; all without announcing our presence! Which is why I still don't understand what tipped them off in any case... Don't I get any thanks?" Draco drawled mutinously, talking mainly to keep himself from being too tense at the administrations. His side seemed much better... but he didn't like being touched at the best of times, and being touched by Harry was - uncomfortable.

Harry smiled slightly. "Of course you do," he said softly, and gently reached over to put the bandage back on, gently patting it down and admittedly lingering a bit in touching his side. He had really soft skin!

Harry felt like such a perv.

"Hence the reason I came to see you and why I got you a present." Harry assured.

Draco brightened superficially. "Ah... now that's more like it. What is it? Is it expensive?" he asked untactfully.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I suppose it could be," he said softly. "There's two parts of it. First part is, I've located your trunk. The Slytherins hid it and were going to destroy it, but I bribed them. I've got someone bringing it up to you this afternoon, so your things should still be in there."

Draco raised his eyebrows slightly, then hummed and nodded. "Thoughtful," he drawled softly. "Much appreciated, Potter... But this other thing -- is it shiny?"

Harry laughed. "You like shiny, expensive things? What do you want... a diamond ring?" he asked wryly.

"Yes, that would do," Draco replied. "...I could pawn that for at least a hundred galleons."

Harry rolled his eyes again and smiled slightly. "Sorry. Fresh out of diamonds. But I might have something to give you that's a little bit more useful."

"Ear plugs?" Draco drawled. "For while I'm in Granger's company?"

Harry laughed. "No... not ear plugs. How about..." he seemed to trail thoughtfully. "..A little bit of freedom?"

"I don't understand," Draco said, brows drawing together.

Harry hummed. "I managed to convince Snape that since he was punishing you for the wrong thing you did... namely lying to him... that he should reward you for the good things you did... such as saving my life and Ron's and being so brave and selfless. He couldn't argue with that, so we struck a bargain. You get your Saturday nights free to leave the castle, so long as I'm with you. And if you're not back by midnight, then we're both dead... or rather... I am dead. He made me sign paperwork." he said with a roll of his eyes.

"But I also managed to convince him you needed more clothes; that you look good in jeans and stuff! So he gave me some money to take you shopping with. So this Saturday, I figured we could go get you some clothes and you could have a little taste of freedom outside of the castle. Just don't get me in trouble, okay? I don't fancy spending all my free evenings with Snape," he said with a shudder.

Draco looked decidedly diverted, and his expression of confusion was so undiluted and innocent in its ignorance it was not just a little distracting.

"I don't know what to say," he drawled, frankly, at length. No one had ever gone to such trouble for him before, save Snape, obviously, in numerous ways on many occasions - but that was different...

He looked down for a moment, frowning in thought, then drew and let out a breath before meeting green eyes. "Thank you, Potter," he forced, formally, in gratitude.

Harry smiled slightly. "Hey... what are friends for, right?" he quipped almost airily, but for a moment he felt unable to look away from Draco's grey eyes. "I figured it's the least I could do, all things considered."

"Even so..." Draco murmured. "No one has ever done any such thing for me before..."

Harry hummed and flushed bashfully. "Well... that's a shame then. You're awfully easy to be nice to."

Draco smacked Harry upside the head.

"What?!" Harry exclaimed. "I give you a compliment and I get smacked?!"

"Yes!" Draco exclaimed, and stood up and wandered over to the drawers to look for clothes to change into.

Harry smiled slightly. "Well, well... who'd have thought Draco Malfoy to be modest about anything?" he asked wryly, and tried not to be distracted by the sight of Draco bent over as he searched in the drawers.

But it was true. He had a luscious arse...

Draco pulled out a pair of black jeans and a different grey t-shirt to wear, before heading for the bathroom. "I am not modest, I dislike flattery..." he stated, before disappearing.

"It wasn't flattery!" Harry called through the bathroom door, and idly wandered around the room, getting a feel for Draco's private space. There was a knock at the bedroom door and a young first year Slytherin dumped two large trunks inside the room.

"How do I know it's all there?" Harry asked shrewdly.

"Check it yourself if you don't believe me! They couldn't break the locks on them anyway so I doubt they stole anything." The little Slytherin retorted, giving Harry a glare... or trying to.

Harry smiled at him in amusement, seeing he was trying to act tough. "Well... thanks anyway," he assured and watched as the Slytherin left. Once gone, Harry bent to examine the locks on the trunk, raising an eyebrow at the complicatedness of it. Obviously, Draco wanted to safeguard his privacy!

Harry took out a paperclip from a desk drawer, unbent it, and started to try and work the lock.

He got one undone... but each trunk had about seven total. One down... six to go...

Draco came out of the bathroom, bone-thin frame clad in black jeans and the grey t-shirt, both of which outlined his thinness almost as well as when he wore neither... He came out, rubbing the last of the water droplets out of his hair, and gave a cry of alarm when he saw Harry breaking his locks.

"What the hell are you doing? How are you getting through those?!" he glared, lurching forward quickly to sit on the top of the trunk so he couldn't open it.

Harry raised an eyebrow and held up a paperclip. "I used to keep a paperclip on me at all times, just in case my cousin or my uncle decided to lock me in my cupboard or any other place dark and cramped. I can pick my way out of almost anything now! I figured charms wouldn't work. And I was just trying to open it to make sure everything was there," he said softly and smiled. "Why? You have dirty magazines in there you don't want anyone to see?"

Draco narrowed his eyes a little, though it was almost playful. "Hardly..." he drawled, and stood before simply touching each of the last locks, making each snap open easily. He pulled the lid open and cast grey eyes over the contents briefly... They grew shadowed... It was strange to see his belongings again after all that had happened...

But everything was perfectly folded, placed and packed, so he knew nothing had been disturbed. "It's all there," he murmured, letting the lid fall closed again.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You seem almost sad to see your stuff again," he said softly.

"I'm most obliged to you," Draco drawled conversely, shrugging.

"That's not what I asked," Harry said softly and looked at Draco sympathetically and bit a lip. "Were these really your things?"

Draco looked at Harry briefly, then hummed, "You know... I do believe I might have underestimated you, Potter... I think many might have..."

Harry smiled slightly. "Yes... you certainly have," he agreed. "And I'll take that as a no, they aren't," he said softly and sighed, taking a seat on top of the other trunk opposite the blond.

Draco smiled wanly. "Mmm... yes, you may take it as fact that they aren't. My other trunk holds more items of personal importance... but even they are few. I don't keep things close to me... and I keep people even less so," he drawled, almost self-depreciatingly, but also factual.

He shrugged bony shoulders briefly, and brushed some damp hair out of his eyes, seeming a bit preoccupied, as if there was more to say, only he couldn't work out how to say it.

"And this all goes back to your father again, I take it," Harry said softly. "He picked the clothes, who you associated with too I imagine, yes?"

"Yes..." Draco murmured, in distraction.

Harry bit a lip thoughtfully. "Did you ever... I mean, obviously you weren't happy with that," he said softly and looked thoughtful. "Am I right in assuming it would have been bad if you'd tried to be more independent?"

Draco looked up, suddenly detecting the route this casual conversation was leading, and quirked an eyebrow slightly. "I have no intention of elaborating on what you are insinuating..." he said simply.

"Fine," Harry said softly, green eyes intense. "Then do you mind if I elaborate?"

"Yes," Draco said firmly. "I do, actually."

"Well, that's just tough," Harry said softly. "If we did things your way, you and I wouldn't be here right now, would we?" he replied and looked at Draco intently. "Let's just analyse the facts here then, shall we? Your father is such a sick bastard that he arranged to kill his own child because he didn't want the two of you close. Which means his regard for you was probably not much higher and he only tolerated you because you were useful to him in some way. Your clothes were chosen for you, you've been taught to keep your distance from people emotionally... and there are more scars on your body than there are holes in Swiss cheese," he said softly and looked at Draco intently.

"I think it's fair to assume where you got those scars. Am I right to assume Ron is going to have similar scars? From perhaps... similar treatment?" he asked softly.

Draco said nothing, just looked at Harry with an impassive expression, before pulling in a deep (as he could manage) breath and standing to pace away to the window in silence, folding his arms as his only sign of vulnerability.

Harry watched him sympathetically for a long moment, before standing and coming over to stand next to the blond by the window, not daring to touch him, though a part of him ached to comfort him.

"How often?" Harry asked softly at last.

Draco stared at the horizon, wishing he could be there rather than trapped in this room with such unpleasant questions...

"Every day?" he replied, almost in question. He scoffed quietly, tasting bitterness. "It certainly seemed like every day..."

Harry looked strained. "I don't understand," he said shakily. "Why? What was the point? How could you survive all that, Draco?!"

Draco shrugged, not caring to reply to the last. As for why... "It was part of my training... and it did what it was supposed to do... I can endure a Cruciatus Curse for up to ten minutes without a single scream passing my lips... There is strength in pain, or so I was led to believe."

Harry's eyes shadowed. "That's ridiculous," he said softly and scoffed, putting his hands on the windowsill, staring out across the grounds. "There's no strength in pain. That's just an illusion they want to believe because they think it makes them tough. It doesn't," he said softly. "Strength comes from what you did, Draco. Enduring... surviving... and still coming out with your integrity in tact," he said softly.

"Oh, sod integrity, Potter... I'm sick of hearing about integrity..." Draco said distastefully. "Don't you understand? I did try... I did want to do what I was told... Do you know why? Because it stopped me looking like Weasley does in that infirmary right now! And frankly, if I hadn't obeyed, I would have just been killed... so the least I could do was try to get behind the cause. If I could have had it so, I'd be back in that fortress - right where I used to be - working my way up to a position of influence, just as my father wanted."

Harry looked at Draco intently for a moment. "I don't believe that," he said softly. "And I don't think you believe it either."

"Fuck off, Potter... I think I have more than answered 'your questions'," Draco said sardonically.

"Yes... you have." Harry replied. "But you haven't answered your own yet. So let me answer them for you. You really wish you were back in that fortress?" he demanded, looking at the boy intently. "You wish to call Voldemort Master? To kiss his boots? To kiss your father's arse? The man who murdered your sister? You want to serve them? Then why didn't you, Draco?" he demanded softly.

"You had your chance! We were right there. All you had to do was tell the Dark Lord it was your idea to bring me there. You could have handed me to him on a silver platter. But you didn't. You got us in... and you left with us! And I seem to recall you stopping to try and save a child's life. Tell me, Draco... would you have killed her? Would you have enjoyed torturing her? You say you were in that fortress working your way up the ladder. I imagine you had to do some fairly horrible things. Did you enjoy them?" he asked intently.

"No!" Draco shouted, and turned, abruptly forcing Harry to the closest wall with a bony arm pressed horizontally across his throat. He was breathing hard and looked pale and strained, almost unable to maintain his composure for once.

"NO?!" Harry demanded. "You're saying you didn't enjoy torture and blood and murder?! Well that's what it TAKES to be one of them, Draco! That's what it takes to be what your father wanted you to be!! But you're NOT!! You will never be one of them! You never HAVE been!" he exclaimed and looked into Draco's eyes intently. "You're still trying to be something you're not, Draco. I saw you. I saw the look in your eyes when you saw that little girl. You ached for her," he whispered shakily.

"You felt something for her! You didn't want her to suffer as you and your sister had suffered. You risked us all being discovered just to try and protect her! I know it might not have done any good in the end, but the point is you tried, Draco! And the fact that you tried proves you to be a liar when you say you want to go back. You don't. You just want to believe you do because it's all you've ever known and all that bastard has ever taught you to know! But the truth is... you're a good person. You're one of the good guys! And you don't want to hurt anyone."

"SHUT UP!" Draco demanded, pushing Harry hard to the wall and pressing himself close in his vehemence despite his aversion to touch.

Harry's eyes softened on the Slytherin, and despite himself his entire body seemed to tingle at the close contact, his heart pounding just a bit harder, and he wasn't entirely sure he could dismiss it as just the heat of the moment. There was heat alright, but it wasn't just the conversation!

He stared into grey eyes intently, seeing the shadows, the angry denial and the struggle to hold on to what was familiar. But he also saw beauty, kindness and standards that Harry could only hope to compare to.

"Draco... be honest with yourself if not with me," Harry said softly, green eyes intent on the Slytherin. "Do you really want to go back? To be one of them? To be like your father?"

Draco's stress was manifesting... Breathless from the exertion of violent threatening and still not at his best after the wound, he started to hyperventilate weakly, even as he brokenly shook his head... partly in denial - partly in reply.

No... he couldn't be like them... he couldn't be like them...

Harry looked pained at his obvious trouble and nodded shakily. "I didn't think so..." he said softly and reached up with a gentle hand to soothe some blond hair back from his face in worry.

"And there's nothing wrong with that, okay? Are you alright? Try and calm down, okay? You're starting to look like you might lose concentration again," he said softly, aware Draco still had him pinned to the wall, and every breath he took made his chest expand against Harry's.

He could feel the vibrations of his breathing and his pounding heart, which somehow made Harry's heart start to pound just a little faster in echo.

Draco groaned softly in his frustration, trying so hard to breathe naturally... while his body tried to make up for his breathlessness with hyperventilation.

He too became aware of how close he was to Harry, able to feel his breaths just as Harry felt his. He lowered his arms, instead resting the hand to the wall next to Harry's shoulder, leaning for support while he gradually slowed his breathing down, but looked almost translucently pale for the effort... and just stared into Harry's compassionate, understanding eyes... Rarely, if ever, had he been looked at like that.

Draco's proximity was making Harry uncomfortable, in more ways than one. He felt wrapped in a warm blanket of steam, and every breath Draco took and let out (which were several), seemed to fall on Harry's neck which gave him sudden Goosebumps.

His heart pounded as Draco braced himself against the wall and obviously tried to catch his breath back, and Harry was unable to break his gaze away from his, wishing suddenly that he wasn't so close because it was getting hard to think again. About anything clean anyway...

Draco noticed Harry nearly shift with unease... a feeling he could have easily mirrored were he more obvious...

Finally, when he was breathing normally once more, the memory of the restaurant returned and the topic of conversation... and he started to understand, but inched forward to be chest-to-chest again, just to be sure what he was thinking was correct.

It was a highly amusing thought if it was true.

"Umm..." Harry managed, slightly incoherently as Draco was suddenly chest to chest with him again. "Do you... umm... think you could sort of... let me go now?" he asked, looking at Draco intently. "Unless you still plan to hurt me, of course," he said wryly, his voice a bit more breathless.

Shower. He needed a very, very cold shower.

Draco quirked an eyebrow slightly, looking amused. "I doubt you're my type. Besides, just because I grew up around that sort of thing... doesn't mean I follow suit," he drawled, leaning forward almost in tease, lips so close their breaths mingled... before abruptly drawing back completely and stepping away from him. "Don't worry, Potter, you're safe," he said with a small smirk.

Harry doubted that. All of a sudden he sincerely doubted that...

His heart was still in his throat, having jumped a mile when Draco had drawn close, their breaths mingling briefly. He could still practically taste him.

"Right..." he said softly and drew away from the wall, almost like a frightened rabbit that had been cornered by a wily fox. "Well...umm... I should go check on Rowan and Dora and Hermione and... and get back to Ron..." he excused, suddenly unable to meet Draco's eyes.

"Alright... you do that," Draco murmured placidly, following him to the door, and leaning in the doorframe once he'd gone through. "See you later..." he bid, still looking mildly amused. He was confused, certainly - but amused, first and foremost.

Harry raised his eyes to Draco, somehow sensing the amusement in his voice, or perhaps seeing it in his grey eyes. He raised a dark eyebrow, almost in challenge. "Yes... you will," he promised defiantly, and left quickly, confused as well and suddenly grateful to be out of that room, but Draco's touch still lingered, as though he were inside his skin now.

He decided to take that shower.

* * *

Authors Notes: Hope you enjoyed. R&R xx 


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Nothing mine except Rowan and Demora and the odd imaginary uncanon item! All HP belongs to JK bows...

Authors Notes: I can see from the number of hits this fic is getting that some nice people are liking it enough to read it! Thank Merlin. I only ask that you also are nice enough to review it... I unabashedly admit that I posted this publically in order to get some feedback, to find out what people thought of it...Thank you so much to those who have followed this and reviewed so far. Please continue to do so. The momentous revival of Ron coming up, not to mention a snazzy flashback!

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes**

-Chapter Eight-

* * *

Two days had passed since Rowan and Demora had come to Hogwarts and she still hadn't managed to find time to tell her twin she was alive, simply because Rowan had demanded her attention first and foremost. Being in a new place was always hard for him, but this was the first time he'd been in a new place for any length of time.

Add to the fact that this was a castle and it was relatively dusty and there were students and professors everywhere, and she could have predicted that he would have a hard time. The ramifications of his previous actions in saving Draco and Harry had also caught up with him, and so he had been refusing to come out of his room, having panic attacks almost every two to three hours, which Demora had tried desperately to soothe.

The nights were worse, though.

When he did sleep, he had nightmares, and she now knew the detail of those nightmares or rather, more detail than she had. She got little sleep, but it hardly mattered, determined to get him through this and frankly worried he was headed for another breakdown. She'd spoken to Rowan's mother via the fireplace and asked her if she thought it best to return home, but the woman had adamantly encouraged her to stay there if possible.

Demora had sought out a more professional opinion.

"I'm just worried, Doctor. He's off his food again and at this point, the medication doesn't even seem to be helping at all!" Demora exclaimed as she knelt in front of the fireplace in the living room of the suite they'd been given. "I'm worried he's going to have another breakdown or something worse!"

The doctor, a bearded man in his late sixties, looked at the girl sympathetically, his face flame and his eyes coal in the fire. "Demora, he must learn to cope with new situations and new places. I agree with your mother that this experience is necessary for him. If, however, the medication is not up to the task, I can increase his dosage."

Demora stiffened automatically at the mere mention of that. "I don't like that idea, Doctor. I would much prefer to be able to handle this without drugs," she said crisply.

The doctor sighed heavily. "I know how you feel about drugs, Demora."

"Forgive me, Doctor Madison, but no... you don't. You couldn't possibly begin to imagine how I feel about drugs at this particular moment," she said stiffly.

The doctor nodded seriously. "It's the best way," he assured. "The only way unless you want to take him home, which I believe would be a step in the wrong direction! He's already self-conscious enough as it is. To take him home now would make him feel like a failure."

Demora nodded darkly, knowing that was true. But the hated the idea of more drugs. She warred silently with herself, before nodding tensely. "Send me the new medication then."

"I will. Until then, double up his dosage. That should have the same affect," the doctor assured.

"Fine. But if there's anything else you can do for him..." Demora trailed intently.

"I will look into the matter and see if there are any meditation techniques or natural healing methods which could help him. But in the end, Demora... this is something he's going to have to work out for himself. His battle takes place in the mind, and that is the only place it can be resolved." he assured.

Demora nodded tensely. "I understand. Thank you, doctor," she said softly and turned away from the fire, going to the kitchen to take out the lasagne she'd made.

Lasagne was his favourite and she'd made it the way he liked it in order to try and tempt him to eat something. She spooned some of it onto a plate, before entering his bedroom which was dimmed with nothing but the fire in the fireplace to light her way.

She put the plate down on the righthand bedside table, the other one closest to Rowan covered with medicine and potion bottles, a breathing mask for when his panic attacks made him feel like he couldn't breathe (though that was rare and usually only happened if he felt horribly claustrophobic). She made sure she always kept the door open, and went over to a window to open it and let in some fresh air and some sunlight.

She turned back to the bed and watched Rowan sleeping soundly on his side, taking in his exhausted eyes which had heavy grey circles around them, making him look all the weaker and exhausted. He was paler than death and he lost weight quickly when he didn't eat thanks to a high metabolism, so she was already starting to see signs of his self-induced starvation.

Most people wouldn't notice the extra sharpness to the curve of his cheek or the slight sunkenness to his eyes, the extra boniness to a wrist... But she noticed all of that and more, approaching his bedside and tenderly reaching out to soothe the dark strands of hair which felt as soft as the down on a swan.

She was devastated by her own feelings and still didn't know what to do about them. A part of her felt it indecent to notice how attractive Rowan was, to acknowledge that attraction in any way and to further acknowledge that her rage over Hermione had been a bit more than sisterly devotion; quite a bit more. She'd been jealous as hell...

She was hoping to dismiss it as loss of sanity.

Perhaps it would go away, she thought to herself, but it was hard to imagine a time when she hadn't felt something for him. It was interesting how she'd always thought of him as a friend first and a brother second.

At first when she'd come to the Chambers' home, she hadn't even called him her brother! Just 'this is my friend, Rowan' and the kind people who'd taken her in were Mr. and Mrs. Chambers... not Mother and Father. That was actually something recent she'd acquired as a teenager. She'd only been calling Mr. Chambers 'father' for a few months when he died.

So why all of a sudden was she starting to feel like Rowan was just automatically hers?

Because he was, she answered herself. He always had been! From the moment she'd stepped foot in that house, she'd been his present and they'd been inseparable. He hadn't been dependent on her as he was now; she'd been dependent on him! He'd gotten her through grief, taught her to ride a bicycle, helped her with homework, fought off bullies, and ultimately been her world.

She swallowed thickly, remembering those times...and trying to remember the exact moment it had all changed without her knowledge...

* * *

_"ROWAN!!!!!!!!"_

_Demora Chambers was mad. She was furious! She was steaming!_

_"MOTHER!!" Demora demanded, and the hot-headed thirteen year old came downstairs, dressed in jeans that hugged her blossoming feminine curves and a shirt which Mr. Chambers -- er... Father... would no doubt have something to say about. "Mother, he won't get out of the bathroom! Will you tell him I have a friend coming over tonight and his big, stupid, fat girlfriend doesn't care if he's shaven or not so long as he buys her a meal! And he can't even shave! Not really! It's just stubble!!!"_

_The woman standing at the kitchen sink was a contrast; blond hair, but her son's blue eyes, and features that were just as kind. She smiled in amusement as the teenager came downstairs, getting a secret thrill to hear the girl call her 'Mother' which was something she'd taken up only a few months ago despite living in the house since she was six. It had been a long, hard road to earn the child's trust and respect._

_Rowan had managed it almost immediately, but it was as if the girl hadn't wanted to get too close. Now, however, she sounded like any other teenage girl, and she couldn't be more pleased._

_"Your brother has a date, dear. I think you can give him a few extra minutes to get ready. He sure seems to like this girl! This is their third date in two weeks," she said, pleased her sixteen year old was happy._

_Demora frowned at that and folded her arms._

_"Oh please!" she exclaimed dismissively with a roll of her eyes. "He can't possibly be serious about Laura Bacon! Honestly, how can you be serious about anyone named after breakfast food? And she eats like the pigs she's named after! And she's got that high-pitched, annoying laugh when she's nervous. Ugh..." she said with a shudder._

_"Demora..." Mrs Chambers said warningly. "I expect you to be polite to Miss Bacon when she arrives."_

_Demora smiled innocently. "But mother.. I'm always polite!" she assured. "I would never dream of doing anything to upset Miss Bacon. What is she anyway? Polish? Like the sausage?"_

_Mrs Chambers rolled her eyes. "I don't know! She's not French that's for sure. She's an exchange student; I thinks he's American."_

_"Ah...well, that explains it."_

_"Demora, be nice to her!" the woman warned._

_"Okay! Okay! I'll be nice. Just get Rowan out of the bathroom before Christmas!" she exclaimed._

_The doorbell rang and Demora shuddered._

_Mrs Chambers sighed. "That will be her. I'll go get Rowan and you answer the door. Invite her in, offer her something to drink and tell her Rowan will be down in a minute."_

_"Good thing you didn't ask me to offer her something to eat. We couldn't afford it." Demora muttered under her breath, going over to the door and answering it._

_Laura Bacon was... curvy. The luscious kind of curvy that made men drool, with thick dark black hair, a lipstick red smile and boobs that at thirteen Demora could only envy. She was older... seventeen to be exact... but smart enough to know that Rowan Chambers was a hottie and would only get cuter as he got older._

_"Hello! Is Rowan ready?" she asked with a bright smile._

_Demora looked at her stoically, feeling like a skinny, plain willow in comparison. She hated feeling second-rate to anyone and she automatically clenched her teeth as she pulled a thin smile._

_"He's drowning himself in cologne at the moment. Come in," she invited. If you must, she added silently. "Can I offer you a drink? A chair?" An AIDs test...? Merlin knew where she'd been!_

_The girl entered the house and looked around, not used to such humble surroundings. Her own family was rich..._

_"No, no, I'm fine, thank you. We're going to be eating on my parents' yacht this evening," she informed with a thin, almost arrogant smile. It was instinctive to hate the blond before her, somehow sensing that, sister or no, she was a threat. "I've been wanting Rowan to meet my father. He owns the Paris Prophet, you know," she boasted._

_"You don't say..." Demora said dryly. "And you get to eat on a little boat! How fascinating. I hope it's safe. It would be a shame if someone were to fall overboard and drown."_

_She narrowed her eyes, but didn't have time to retort as suddenly she heard footsteps, and Laura smiled as one of the most handsome boys in their school descended the steps. "Well, don't you look wonderful!" she exclaimed, seeing he'd dressed up._

_Demora turned... and stared._

_Wonderful was an understatement._

_Rowan smiled an easy-going, wry smile, spread his hands a little and did a turn on the third-to-last step. "I clean up alright, don't I? I hope the tie's not too much," he said, wrinkling his nose as he took the last few steps down._

_Never having been one for convention, Rowan was not actually wearing a suit... He instead wore a pair of black, leather trousers that hugged his slender legs, a light-blue t-shirt with a graffiti-like pattern across the front, and a black leather jacket over that... He wore the tie around his neck loosely, but it did little to make the outfit more upper-class... but he still looked fantastic._

_And he had done his bit to look more acceptable... He was wearing his fancy watch, and had taken off the rings he sometimes wore (somehow, silver skull rings or one of the Celtic-looking ones seemed to give off the wrong image). He was hardly a gothic rebel sort! Just had very alternative tastes, and being free-spirited, he liked to indulge them!_

_He laughed a little when he saw Demora's expression. "Ooo... someone's not impressed! What's the matter? This is smart... for me, at any rate... This t-shirt was ironed and everything."_

_Demora couldn't breathe. He looked gorgeous, of course. She knew her brother was always hot from anyone's perspective! But tonight he looked amazing. She really couldn't fault a thing about him... except that he'd gotten dressed up like that for Laura._

_"It looks nice," she said softly, like she was describing a bowl of cereal. "So where are you headed? Some boat?"_

_"A yacht," Laura insisted. "My parents are throwing a dinner party and Rowan is invited," she informed haughtily and smiled, linking her arm with Rowan. "You'll do great!" she assured. "We should get going though. The party starts soon!"_

_"That's cool," Rowan nodded, kissing Laura's cheek. "Just let me go say 'bye' to my dad," he added, leaving her looking a bit miffed and ruffling Demora's hair amusedly as he hurried past her (dodging her attempt to slap him with a chuckle), before knocking gently on the study door._

_"Come in," called Charles Chambers, frowning over a piece of parchment._

_Rowan came in and made a beeline for his father, merrily throwing his arms around him from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. "Whatcha doin'?" the sixteen-year-old asked brightly._

_"Oof," Charles exaggerated for the hug from behind, and chuckled softly, patting one of Rowan's arms. "Oh, just a little last-minute work... See? This is what happens when I spent all weekend with you two... When you grow up and have children, I hope they take up all your time too, then I can say 'I told you so'..."_

_Rowan laughed softly. "Don't be daft... Any children I have will take after me and be so slow they don't need half as much entertaining as Dora and I!" he quipped._

_"Now, now..." Charles said firmly, tugging Rowan around and gently tilting his chin. "None of that... Your mother sometimes misses it, but don't think you get your little put-downs past me... I don't like you saying things like that about yourself. So you aren't a fan of reading? Ugh, join the club... But it doesn't make you stupid... far from it..." he insisted earnestly._

_Rowan smiled faintly, looking contrite. "Okay..." he conceded._

_"What's this get-up?" Charles chortled. "You look like me when I used to go to discos with your mother!"_

_"Oh, please don't give me that mental image, Dad... please?" Rowan laughed. "I'll be too traumatised to leave my room!"_

_Charles looked wry, and reached up to ruffle the fashionably-mussed strands of black hair. "Be careful though, alright? And hey - that Bacon girl is iffy, so you watch yourself..." he advised._

_Rowan scoffed quietly. "Yeah, sure, Dad; real dangerous that one... Should I wear protective gear just in case?"_

_"Ooo... who's getting mouthy in their teenage hood?" Charles accused, pulling his son across his lap. "Maybe he needs a bit of discipline, huh? Maybe he needs a lesson or two..." he tickled him cruelly._

_"Hahaha! No! Stop it! I'm too old for this!" Rowan laughed, squirming._

_"Too old to be tickled? Don't be silly. You can be tickled till you're dead... and even then you can still be tickled - it just takes a very odd person to do it, and the person on the receiving end doesn't react as much..." Charles smirked._

_Rowan caught his breath with an effort, and sat up straighter. "You are evil," he accused wryly, and gave his cheek an affectionate kiss. "See you later then..." he said, poking his father's flat stomach cheekily._

_Charles winced a bit._

_Rowan blinked. "Sorry... You alright?"_

_"Yes... s'nothing, my stomach's still a bit jippy..." Charles hummed, giving it a little rub through his t-shirt briefly, before smiling again. "You enjoy yourself, alright? But be back by a reasonable hour!" he warned._

_"I know, I know," Rowan smiled, and got up and headed for the hallway again, closing the door behind him and hurrying over to meet Laura. "Okay! Let's go..." he said lightly. "Ship ahoy! Or... yacht ahoy...whatever."_

_Laura smiled thinly. "Right.." she said, and covertly rolled her eyes. "Well then, let's go." she said and glared at Demora on her way out._

_Demora frowned as Rowan and Laura left, silently enraged, before going to her father's study. "Father! You can't honestly approve of them going out to that party! There could be alcohol... and drugs! Do you want your sixteen year old corrupted by alcohol and - and sex?! You should have seen her! There are prostitutes dressed better! Skinnier prostitutes of course, but shouldn't something be done about this?! She's a leech!" she ranted._

_Charles looked around with a soft chuckle. "Well, there's my little firecracker..." he said amusedly, feeling a rush of warmth like his wife to have finally earnt the title --- which she now seemed to screech every other second. "And I shouldn't think there will be too much to worry about. The party is held by grown-ups, not other teenagers... And you know what Rowan's like; he'd never touch drugs, just because they're tested on animals and such..."_

_"That's not the point!" Demora said tensely. "She's a vulture! A disgusting, vile, putrid vulture, feeding on the carcass of life!"_

_"Very graphic, my dear," Charles laughed, and beckoned her over, seeing how tense she was. "Come on... don't make yourself uneasy, my love," he said, tugging her to his side gently and kissing the back of her hand in comfort the same way Rowan did out of politeness. "If she's as bad as you say, Rowan won't be with her for long."_

_Demora's anger evaporated at the endearment and the kiss on the hand, and despite herself she found herself leaning into his comfort._

_"And what if he doesn't? What if they get married... and have gross, fat little vulture babies?" she asked poutingly._

_"Well.. I don't think that will happen... but if it did, then--- Well, yes, then I see your concern," Charles smiled._

_Demora nodded indignantly. "Right. So... obviously that shouldn't happen then. It would be bad. So... any action taken to prevent that from happening could be ethically justified, yes?"_

_"No... because I told you; it's unlikely," Charles said pointedly._

_Demora frowned. "But it's not unlikely! She's a shrew! A vindictive shrew and she's taking him to meet her parents tonight! Isn't that when things get serious? When you start to meet their parents? And this is his third date with her!"_

_Charles sighed wearily, feeling a bit too unwell for the teenage drama really... "Well, yes, I suppose it is getting a little more serious. Just a fraction..."_

_Demora smiled and reached over to kiss his cheek. "That's all I needed to know!" she exclaimed, hopping down out of the chair and paused. "Are you okay? You don't look so well, Father."_

_"Bit of an upset stomach, my love... Nothing too worrisome... just a pain in the ar--- umm... armour. Yes. Armour," Charles flushed, always being scolded by his wife for language around the children._

_Demora giggled... actually giggled... a rare sound which only he or Rowan could get out of her. "Well... get some rest. I hope your... armour.. feels better," she teased and hesitated. "I was, umm... going to go out with Jeanette and her brother, Pierre, again tonight. That's alright, isn't it?"_

_Charles had turned back to his work. "Mm? Oh, yes... that's fine," he assured, nodding._

_Demora grinned. "Thanks, Dad!" she called, leaving quickly, not even aware she'd called him 'Dad' which was a world's difference away from 'Father'._

_Charles paused slightly, hand a little tighter on his quill, and he smiled a bit, pushed his glasses up his nose, and tried to concentrate on work again without much luck._

_Half an hour later, Demora was outside her house and getting into the backseat of Pierre's car. He was seventeen and unlike his sister, Jeanette, had shown absolutely no magical ability, so he went to a regular muggle school._

_But because Jeanette and Demora were such good friends, and he secretly had a crush on the blond, he was happy to take them anywhere they wanted to go._

_"What's so urgent?" Jeanette asked her friend in fluent French, dark hair combed sleek and straight down her back._

_Demora shook her head. "No time to explain!" she retorted in French. "Can you take me to the docks? And wait for me?"_

_"Ahh... the adventures of Demora Chambers continue," Pierre said in amusement, putting the car into gear and heading for the docks. "What's at the dock besides water?"_

_"I'm following my brother to make sure his date doesn't get her vicious claws into him!" Demora said indignantly, having dressed in a lovely blue party dress so she'd fit in._

_"You owled me and told me it was an emergency so we can spend our free night waiting for you in the car while you go and save your brother from a vicious harlot?" Jeanette asked wryly._

_Demora smiled brightly. "Precisely! I knew you'd understand."_

_Pierre and Jeanette exchanged looks, but neither dared argue._

_They drove around the docks until Demora was certain she spotted the right yacht, catching a glimpse of her brother and his date getting on board. She had her friends drop her off a little bit away so she could walk up and blend into a group of women who were boarding without being noticed._

_It was a crowded affair with a buffet style dinner, and people generally just mingling and talking. Some people danced to the elegant music playing on the stereo, the large yacht fully accommodating them, and Demora did her best to blend in, searching for her brother... and finding him dancing with Laura._

_Laura Bacon smiled dreamily at Rowan as they danced to the music. "I think my father was impressed..." she assured him. "Of course, you didn't wear a suit, but I don't think he held that against you."_

_Rowan looked wry. "I hope not... because I won't be wearing one any time soon," he assured, and held her close for the intimate dance, his cheek pressed to hers. He was nearly choking to death on perfume fumes..._

_Demora glared as they danced closer together. Dirty bitch!! She took out her wand, and covertly broke her heel._

_Laura had frowned at his statement. "Oh? Well... I mean sometimes it's necess--WHOA!!" she exclaimed, losing her balance and toppling backwards onto the floor._

_Demora ducked behind a corner and snickered. Beautiful!_

_Rowan hurried to bend down and help her up. "Laura, are you okay?" he asked, helping her to recompose herself, smoothing her hair again, and eventually smiling a little and biting a lip to keep from laughing. That was funny..._

_Demora frowned. Okay, damsel in distress! Damn it. She hadn't meant to make it seem like that..._

_But Laura milked it for all it's worth._

_"What? Oh yes... yes, I'm fine! I - umm... think I might have turned my ankle a bit. Oh dear! My heel broke. How embarrassing." she said, leaning on him with abandon as she pretended delicacy. "Do you mind if we sit down?"_

_Rowan, naturally compassionate and kind as he was, couldn't help but feel instantly guilty for finding the fall funny and guided her to a chair in concern. "Of course... here... Do you want me to take a look? I can tell if it's a sprain," he offered worriedly._

_Laura nodded shakily. "Yes... yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you! You're so kind..." she said softly. Ha-ha... triumph!_

_Demora's eyes flashed. Vindictive bitch!!_

_Rowan smiled a little, sitting down on the bench seat next to her and feeling her ankle on his leather-clad knee carefully. Didn't seem to be hurt, hmm... "Well, I can't feel anything wrong," he assured, frowning a little, turning it a little experimentally._

_"Ooo! Ow...that hurts!" Laura said dramatically._

_Want pain? She'll show her pain!! Demora saw a waiter pass by carrying drinks. With a wave of her wand, the drinks spilled on top of her, pouring down the front of her dress and drenching her hair._

_She shrieked and stood up, obviously not that hurt!_

_"You CLUMSY--" she started at the waiter, but seeing Rowan there and people staring at her, she pasted on a smile and gave a shaky laugh. "Could happen to anyone!" she assured. "Does...anyone have a handkerchief?" she asked, obviously upset but not wanting to make a scene._

_Demora had to lean against a wall to keep standing she was laughing so hard and trying not to be heard._

_Rowan gave Laura an odd look, then handed her a handkerchief, not making as much of a fuss this time... Her ankle looked fine, and he didn't appreciate shouting at staff; it was bloody hard work catering to all this stuff-shirts, he'd bet._

_Laura took the handkerchief, patting herself down and smiled at Rowan, linking her arm with his and perhaps seeing his eyes look a bit more distant._

_"I'm sorry. It's just a lot of bad luck I suppose! What do you say we get away from the crowd and go for a walk, hmm? There's a lovely beach area not far from here," she tried to tempt._

_Rowan nodded. "Yeah... sounds like a good idea," he murmured, feeling almost claustrophobic around these boring, powerful types... With a small smile, he led her back off the yacht and followed her down some wooden steps and decking to get to the beach._

_He grinned slightly, instantly taking off his black shoes his socks to feel the sand underfoot. He lived surprisingly close to the coast and yet he just never seemed to have the time to go! And he hadn't been back long enough this summer to enjoy it yet. He laughed when he saw her struggling on sand with the heels - or rather, heel. "Take your shoes off!" he encouraged._

_Laura looked taken aback at the very suggestion. "I'm wearing tights! They'll rip! And besides, do you know how much rubbish is on the beach? I could cut my foot on glass!"_

_Demora rolled her eyes, having already taken her shoes off as she stood behind a building that sold beach supplies during the summer, watching the two of them in the moonlight and silently pouting. How was she supposed to compete with this romantic setting?! She doubted she could get a shark to come up and bite the prissy girl..._

_Rowan rolled his eyes slightly. "There's no glass here! But suit yourself," he sighed, his joy for the setting a little diminished as he took her arm and helped her struggle to the damp shoreline, along which they started to wander. More sand seemed to get into her heels with every step, and that sand was now wet._

_"Ugh..." she exclaimed and finally took her shoes off, casting them behind her and sighed. "Well... I guess that's better. I just can't believe this happened on our date! First my heel broke and then that tray spilling on me! But I'm not a whiner of course. I can weather any storm!" she assured dramatically and wrinkled her nose._

_"Ugh! What is that?!" she asked, pointing to some sea weed that had washed up on the beach and she'd accidentally stepped on. "I hate the beach! So much stuff washes up on the shoreline..."_

_"Only stuff people have put it in there in most cases... As for seaweed, that's natural," Rowan supplied logically, and shrugged beneath his black jacket casually. "I have to disagree with you about the beach though, I love it... The sand between my toes - the fresh smell... I feel so small when I'm next to the sea."_

_"Mmm..." the girl said, trying to fix her hair which was being messed up by the wind. "I suppose it has its charms. Personally, I like the city. New York! Now that's culture. If you want to feel small, go there."_

_"I hope I never go there," Rowan admitted. "Everything is wall to wall concrete... You have like one park, and that's it. I need to be nearer to trees..."_

_The girl wrinkled her nose. "Trees?" she asked. "What's so wonderful about trees?"_

_You can nail people to them, Demora thought darkly. Ugh! She was SO wrong for him!!!_

_The girl laughed. "Though I guess that explains why you're so fond of your sister!"_

_Rowan paused for a moment, hands pocketed and standing still at the edge of the sweeping shore. "Mmm? Meaning what?" he asked._

_The girl shrugged. "Just that she reminds me of a tree! All straight and no curves at all. Flat-chested! And her arms are like twigs. She might be pretty someday, but her attitude is horrible! She'd never get anywhere in society. She's rather wild, isn't she? Your parents really should take her in hand and teach her some manners."_

_Demora's eyes blazed in outrage. TWIG?! FLAT-CHESTED?!!!_

_Rowan stayed standing still for a moment, humming lowly once, then sighed, almost wearily, before reaching out and abruptly shoving her so she fell into the shallow water and mud along the shore._

_"Be very grateful you're not a guy, because just now I would have hit a guy," he said bluntly. "Unlike some people, I don't put so much stock into physical appearance; I give people credit for merits beyond what is skin-deep! In my sister's case, she is caring and sensitive and clever and interesting, all things to which I think you should aspire... and in terms of looks, she is as beautiful as she is charming, interesting and funny! Wipe away that make-up of yours some time and see yourself for what you truly are!" he challenged._

_"Woo-hoo!!" Demora clamped a hand over her mouth at her outburst and carefully tried to slink away, hoping he hadn't heard that, but she was grinning from ear to ear and her heart was full to bursting._

_That will teach her!! ROWAN HAD DUMPED HER IN THE OCEAN!!!! How wonderful was that?!! And she felt her heart swell with his compliments. He thought her beautiful and clever and interesting!!!_

_But Laura didn't think Rowan was so wonderful at the moment, sputtering in wet outrage like a drowned cat._

_"HOW DARE YOU?!" she shrieked, slapping the water in her outrage. "GET OUT!! I never want to see you or your bratty sister again!!!" she shrieked like a banshee._

_"No problem," Rowan assured, rolling his eyes and waving at her dismissively as he turned and went back to his shoes and climbed back to the level of the road._

_With a slight sigh, he pocketed his hands in his leather trousers and wandered along the verge of the Muggle road, heading for home. He didn't feel guilty for what he'd done, she deserved it, he felt... but it was still a let down, as he'd had high hopes for her, and for this evening. Oh well..._

_After a few hundred yards, he stopped and looked around at the quiet street, apparently empty. "You can come out now," he said loudly._

_Demora winced and came out from behind an alley, looking out of place in her pale blue party dress and bare feet._

_She sighed heavily. "How did you know?"_

_Rowan smiled slightly. "Well... no one's that unlucky naturally... had to be something going on," he reasoned, and held out Laura's shoes with a wicked grin. "Something to wear? She can go barefoot tonight..."_

_Demora laughed, coming forward and took the shoes from him, fixing the heel with her wand and slipping them on and looking awkward._

_"Umm... so does this mean you're not angry?"_

_Rowan pocketed his hands again and walked beside her companionably with a small smile. "Nah," he said, wrinkling his nose dismissively. "Better that I know I've found a rotten egg than eat it and have to throw it up... less hassle... I appreciate your sentiment, the fact that you were right, etcetera... However, I'd ask that you don't go to such lengths in future - try and remember what 'privacy' means," he smirked._

_Demora hummed and nodded, flushing slightly and reached over to link her arm with his._

_"Deal..." she said softly, and promised to try and abide by it. "But... that really was quite awesome what you did by the way! Throwing her in the ocean like that!" she exclaimed and giggled. "Beautiful! I couldn't have done it better myself. Truly brilliant!"_

_Rowan hadn't realised she'd still been there then, and almost flushed, but bowed his head. "Well - thank you..." he allowed, and glanced up briefly as an ambulance whizzed by, before sighing. "I can't believe I fell for the 'my ankle hurts' thing though, ugh..."_

_"Mmm... yes, that was pretty classic 'damsel in distress' crud there. But you handled it well," she assured, frowning as the ambulance whizzed by as well and turned down what looked like their street. "Oh no. You think old Mr. Peterson had another attack?" she asked worriedly._

_Rowan frowned slightly, and reached for her hand. "No..." he murmured, and then, though he couldn't be sure why, he started running, pulling her along with him, following the wails of the siren and feeling his heart almost stop when it pulled to a screeching halt in front of their house._

_Demora paled starkly as she saw the ambulance stop and when she saw their mother open the door, crying and begging them to hurry, she knew suddenly that tragedy had struck._

_"Father..." she whispered shakily, and gripped Rowan's hand tighter._

_A stretcher was brought to the door and as soon as Rowan could clearly see his father lying back on it, looking pale and wincing, he let go of Demora's hand and was sprinting down to meet them. "DAD!" he shouted, almost stumbling to a stop at the stretcher as it was taken to the back of the ambulance. "Dad!"_

_Charles raised a hand to pat his boy's cheek weakly. "Bit... jippier than I thought..." he breathed, trying a smile but grimacing in the middle of it._

_"Dad!" Rowan could only repeat, grimacing in worry. "What do you mean, what's the--" he began, but the ambulance doors were closing and the paramedic was pushing him back, assuring they'd get him to the hospital quickly and that they could follow them in their car..._

_Not another word was spoken about his date..._

* * *

Demora was crying silent tears as she watched the rain fall silently outside her window, having forgotten that was the night their father died. Food poisoning... Of all the stupid things to die for! Food poisoning.

And a part of her had blamed herself. She had thought perhaps if she'd stayed behind instead of following Rowan, she might have noticed sooner. She might have been there to help. They could have called for the ambulance sooner, and he might have lived...

But there was no way to know, and she knew Rowan carried his own burden of guilt too.

She sighed heavily and rested her forehead against the glass, but tensed and turned when she heard Rowan start to stir in his sleep, the beginnings of another nightmare coming on. She turned and rushed to his side, sitting at his bedside and soothing his hair, trying to comfort him before the dream even took shape.

"Shh... it's okay... everything's fine..." she whispered softly.

Rowan automatically relaxed a little at the touch, the dream not formed enough to take a hold... A pale, thinner hand gripped at his pillow briefly as he shifted, and his sleep, always light at best even when dreaming, was broken - prompting him to open his eyes blearily... He blinked a few times until he focused on her, and remembered where he was.

Demora smiled shakily and brought her hand down to cup her cheek.

"Hey..." she said softly, soothingly. "You finally slept. You were out for at least four hours just now," she said approvingly, hoping it was a good sign.

Rowan nodded a little, raising one hand of his own to rub at an eye carefully, bravely venturing to sit up slightly. His black night-shirt was looser now, loose enough to slip off one shoulder, and after a minute of blinking, he stilled in shock.

"Dora..." he murmured, and reached over quickly to touch her cheek that glistened with tears. "You - you're crying!" he stammered.

"What?" Demora asked and raised her hand to her cheek, placing her hand over his and winced, sniffing. "Oh... it's... it's nothing..." she assured softly. "I'm fine," she assured, wiping at her other cheek quickly.

Rowan shook his head, knowing how rarely she cried. "N-no... it's not," he insisted, pulling a wipe off his bedside table and dabbing at the cheeks carefully in a fussy fashion. "What's the matter? Is it Mum? Did she call you? Is she upset? Is she sick? Are you sick? Here, lay down!" he said in a rush, breaths almost hitching with panic at the possibilities. He wanted to hide under the covers again... ugh...

"What? No! No, I'm fine!" Demora exclaimed. "Calm down, Rowan! Mother didn't call. I called her and she's fine! She's not sick and neither am I! You're the one not feeling well. Just relax, okay? It's nothing!" she tried to reason.

Rowan looked uneasy... not completely convinced, though relieved to know they were both well... Couldn't say as much for him.

He started to wring his hands slightly, and cleaned them with a wipe to try and hide it. "If... nothing's wrong... what were you crying for?" he asked, then grimaced slightly, looking an odd cross between touched and pained. "Is it... because of me?" he asked softly.

The idea that she could have been crying over him made his stomach twist.

Demora winced softly and sighed, reaching over to soothe his hair. "Partially..." she admitted, though perhaps not in the way he thought. "Mainly though...I was just thinking... remembering things..." she said softly and sighed heavily.

"The night father got ill...when I followed you on that date and made Laura trip," she said, smiling slightly at the memory, but her smile faded. "I guess seeing Severus reminded me of him. He was the closest thing I had to a father before I met yours," she said softly and her grey eyes went distant. "I miss him sometimes," she admitted.

Rowan seemed to lose colour, and sat still, saying nothing. His blue eyes darkened a few shades.

Demora shook her head and closed her eyes. "See? And I knew I shouldn't have told you because it just upsets you further," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

Rowan looked down and shook his head, closing his eyes and taking a shaky breath or two. "No, I... I'm... I'm fine," it was his turn to insist softly. His heart was palpitating uncomfortably, despite not being outwardly panicked.

"No... you're not," Demora insisted softly and reached over to soothe his hair. "But... let's change the subject, okay? I'm glad you woke up because Severus is going to be stopping by in a little while. He's... sort of like a doctor... and I asked him to give you a check up. All this stress has been hell on your body. And I spoke to Dr. Madison today and... he asked me to double up on your dosage from now on. He thinks that might help."

Rowan looked horrified. "A - a check up?"

"Shhh!" Demora exclaimed, holding up her hands. "Now don't get panicked, Rowan! He's very good, okay? He's not going to hurt you and he'll be very clean, I'm sure!"

To his credit, Rowan didn't have a panic attack... but he did hide under his covers abruptly.

Demora winced. "Rowan? Rowan, come out!"

There was a knock at the door and she sighed heavily. "That's him. Rowan, please come out! It's going to be alright. Severus is very nice!" she assured, having only had him for company the past two days when Rowan slept and had caught up on a lot of things, getting to know the man again and learning as much as she could about Draco. She went over to the door and opened it, admitting the tall, black haired man and sighed. "He's hiding under the covers. It umm...might be a while before he comes out again."

Severus frowned. "Hiding under the covers?" he asked, and saw as evidence the lump under the blankets. "I see..." he drawled.

Demora hummed. "Yes. Rowan?" she called, coming over to address him. "Rowan, please come out!"

Rowan shook his head vigorously under the covers. "No... no... I don't think so! I don't need a check up, I'm fine, please go away!" he added.

Severus frowned slightly and bent to Demora to whisper in her ear. "I think I can handle this on my own. Would you consent to leaving me with him for a little while?"

Demora hesitated, her protective instincts wanting to deny the request, but she trusted him, so she nodded. "Okay..." she whispered softly. "He's on double dosage though, just so you know," she whispered.

Severus nodded.

"Very well, Rowan! We're leaving you alone," Severus assured loudly and made a show of walking to the door with Demora and opening it and making it sound like they had left. He didn't dare move or breathe after that.

Rowan didn't move for a good four or five minutes...

Finally, when it was too stuffy under the blankets, and he was sick of hearing only the frantic pounding of his heart, he shuffled about under the blankets a bit and the top of his head appeared, mainly hair, and a hand appeared too, to scratch it...

Another minute passed, then Rowan shifted onto his side, and tugged the blanket down enough to uncover his face... His thinner, pale features froze in shock, and his blue eyes widened, "You lied!" he exclaimed, and scrambled to try to get back under the covers safely.

Severus grabbed the blanket and held it back.

"I exaggerated," Severus retorted. "I plan to leave you alone... after the check up."

Rowan tugged at the blanket weakly, looking most distressed at unfamiliar hands touching the blankets.. "No, no... please! Show your gratitude for me saving them by leaving me alone!" he encouraged, trying to stop his breathing getting too erratic, because Dora wasn't here to calm him down if he fell victim to another attack...

Severus looked sympathetic. "Rowan..." he said softly. "Try to calm down, alright? Let's talk this out. What bothers you about me giving you a check up? Specifically."

"Contamination... touching... and I don't - I don't want checking! And I don't want to get up, I want to stay here..." Rowan added firmly. Safe bed, good bed... nasty castle, too many people.

"You don't have to get out of bed," Severus assured. "As for the contamination..." he considered and then sat on the edge of the bed and held out his hands. "Feel free to decontaminate until you're satisfied," he invited. "There are wipes over there and I know several charms if that helps."

Rowan hesitated, but couldn't resist... so he sat upright, letting the covers fall away to reveal his thin torso and arms, clad in the black t-shirt, with which he wore some grey boxers. He grabbed numerous wipes and started to rub at Severus' hands quickly in silence.

Severus smiled slightly, holding perfectly still, and oddly reminded of Draco in some ways. Though the boy wasn't exactly obsessed with cleaning, they were alike in that they were both wary and had their safe zones. Like wild, beautiful, skittish animals that required patience in order to be remotely tame.

"And for the record, I will try not to touch you too much," he assured softly. "Just enough to make sure you haven't hurt yourself too badly. Demora is quite worried about you."

Rowan nodded slightly, turning a hand over to wiped at the palm. "I know... yes... It brings back memories for us both; I know she's worried, I'm sorry..." he murmured guiltily.

"Did I say it was your fault?" Severus asked softly. "Worry is natural. Obviously you wouldn't cause her to worry if you could help it. It's hardly intentional."

"No... it isn't..." Rowan assured quietly, still very tense and hypersensitive, heart hammering with his silent stress and trying not to breathe too much lest he set off an attack. He wiped more intently at the other hand - trying his best to focus on the thoughtless task.

"She tells me she was your birthday present," Severus said softly, hoping to distract him with talk. "I've noticed the two of you seem quite close."

"We are."

Severus hummed. "I'm glad," he said softly. "I'm sure she needed someone after leaving the Malfoys. You're what... nineteen? Twenty?"

"Twenty," Rowan admitted, after a moment's pause.

Severus nodded. "You look younger than that, but she mentioned you were older, so I was just guessing. What memories?"

"Sorry?"

"You said earlier this brings back memories for both of you," Severus said softly. "Am I to understand this isn't the first time you haven't wanted to get out of bed?"

Rowan was silent for a moment, working on the hands... "I don't see what business it is of y-yours," he stated, inwardly wincing but sounding firm.

"Isn't it?" Severus asked softly. "I brought Demora into this world you know. She was the strong one; loud as a trumpet from the second she was born!" he informed with a small smile. "You're important to her...and she's important to me. So naturally, what's important to her is important to me too. That makes it my business."

"No... it's my business... and it remains my business... you can't just claim it as your own like that..." Rowan frowned slightly.

"And yet by refusing to answer my question, you answer it," Severus commented. "You just told me 'yes, this has happened before'. Information is my business, Rowan. If I choose to think something is my business, I will find the answer. Is it wrong to be concerned about you?"

"Not exactly..."

Severus smiled slightly. "Just not used to anyone besides your family giving a damn?"

Rowan hesitantly looked up a moment... then wiped at his hands harder with a humble nod.

Severus nodded darkly. "I know the feeling," he said softly, allowing his hands to be cleaned thoroughly and looked wry. "Careful. Leave me a little skin," he teased.

Rowan stopped for a moment, blinking a little, taking the comment literally, but then gradually understood and blushed the weakest shade of pink in embarrassment, humbly putting the wipes aside satisfactorily.

Severus looked vaguely amused for the blush and then summoned his medical bag, opening it and taking out a stethoscope and grabbing one of the wipes to wipe off the metal round disk.

"This is my medical bag. I keep everything in here as sanitary as possible simply because diseases and germs spread through contact, so it's sterile by necessity as well as preference. Now...anything I should know? Any allergies, symptoms, pains, etcetera?" he asked.

Rowan shook his head slightly, tensing a little more but sitting still to his credit, just panicking further on the inside... "N-no. Allergic to... to some strong drugs but that's about it."

Severus nodded, sensing his panic and looked at him seriously. "I won't do anything you say not to, alright, Rowan?" he assured softly.

Rowan wrung his hands gently, drew a shaky breath to try and calm himself, and nodded. "Alright..."

Severus nodded. "Alright. I'm just going to listen to your heart, okay?" he said softly and gently placed the metal disk on top of Rowan's shirt, listening carefully to the pounding heart beat and the breaths, which had quickened just slightly. "Just try to relax..." he encouraged. "Tell me about yourself. What do you do for fun?"

"Read..." Rowan said, so softly it was nearly a whisper, looking pale and tense. "I read... for fun..." he elaborated. "Spend time with... with Dora."

Severus listened carefully to the heartbeat, which had picked up and palpitated. It was strained; Severus could hear a small murmur as a result of his body's exhaustion and the sound of his breathing was harsh. Obviously his lungs were fine, but his heart was taking the brunt of the problem.

His blood pressure was no doubt higher than normal and Severus wagered lack of food hadn't helped either. He listened for a long time to the sound of blood rushing through his body, the fast paced tha-thump-tha-thump-tha-thump, and after a moment, withdrew the stethoscope.

"That's it? Read and spend time with your sister?" Severus asked casually, as though nothing were wrong.

"Basically..." Rowan nodded slightly.

Severus hummed. "I'm going to have to touch you a bit now. Just let me go if it gets too bad, alright?"

Rowan nodded slightly, having been stealing himself up, just not entirely sure what to expect. Most of his encounters with doctors over the last few years had been specialists in psychiatry.

"I'm not crazy, you know," he said abruptly.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Yes... I know," he assured. "Who said you were?" he asked, reaching over with both hands to place his hands just under the place where his jaw joint met his neck, feeling the glands there for signs of swelling, which was important because a doctor of Chinese medicine told him you could tell if internal organs were damaged by the swelling of certain glands and he'd found it to be true.

Rowan kept his eyes on the man, tense but not too stricken at the touch... "Some people think I am... or have thought so in the past. I'm not though..."

Severus nodded, raising his eyes to meet Rowan's. "I know," he said softly. "I've met crazy people before, Rowan. I assure you, you're nothing like them."

"Good," Rowan said softly, almost relaxing a little in relief. "I have... problems, but... I'm not crazy - and I'd never do anything bad to anyone..."

Severus frowned slightly at that and dropped his hands to look at the brunette curiously. "Are you afraid you would?" he asked shrewdly.

"Sometimes," Rowan said quietly, a bit surprised by the shrewd question.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What makes you worry about that?" he asked softly. "Have you ever displayed a tendency to do that before?"

Rowan started tensing again. "No, I... I mean, I... I don't - I don't know..." he stammered a bit, looking away from him.

Severus looked at the boy intently and gently reached over to cup his chin to make him look at him, unknowingly in a similar way as his own father had done to him a time or two.

"Rowan..." he said softly. "I think you do know," he replied. "What happened? What makes you think you'd hurt anyone? Whom have you hurt before?"

Rowan hissed in a breath and pulled his face out of the gentle grasp quickly and rubbed his chin as if to erase the touch there, looking strained... "I don't know!" he repeated, louder, almost pushed to stressed tears, which was rare because despite his panic attacks and general upset, he never really cried...

"But you're afraid," Severus insisted softly, not backing down despite the tears. "You're afraid you might have.. that you might again."

"Stop it..." Rowan said quietly, noticeably pale with strain, sniffing back tears before they could manifest.

"No, Rowan..." Severus said softly. "Part of your problem... part of the reason why you get so upset and worked up is that your mind is trying to deal with things because you refuse to. Your OCD is a coping mechanism and it will get worse if you don't at least address some things. You can't just block this out. What happened? Why do you think you'd hurt someone?"

"Because I might have! I don't remember... And you're not one of my head doctors! Just g-get on with your kind of doctoring..." Rowan half-ordered, half-pled (more pled, honestly - it was his sister who did the ordering).

"I'm not a head doctor, no. But I do know a thing or two about memory," Severus said softly. "If you've forgotten something, there are ways to remember if you want to. I could find out for sure if you hurt someone or not."

"No, thank you."

Severus nodded darkly. "I see," he said softly. "So you don't want to know... and yet you insist on torturing yourself with the possibility," he said softly and gently reached into his bag for a syringe. "That's hardly productive."

"Shut up!" Rowan exclaimed, tension making him snap. "You don't know me, you don't know what happened to me, and the last thing I want is a lecture! Lecture your students if you have the urge! Just give me the fucking examination, and stop nosing around in MY affairs!"

Severus glanced at him calmly and raised an eyebrow. "Well... now we're getting somewhere," he said softly and looked at the boy intently. "You're wrong, Rowan. I do know you. You've told me more about you in this conversation than many could over years of friendship. For example, I know you're suffering from an intense form of PTSS and OCD, most likely brought on by trauma, but a very specific kind of trauma. There are many different kinds, after all. No, yours is the violent kind. You only get this kind of paranoia after you've been in a situation where your life itself is on the line," he said softly and looked at the boy intently.

"It's a very primal instinct, Rowan... like being hunted in the wild. Only you're still in that wild, being hunted. Your body is safe, but your mind never left that dark day. It's still there, trapped in your fear and sense of helplessness. Your survival instincts are honed, you're ready for fight or flight... in your case... flight," he said soft.

Rowan looked very tense, and was refusing to look up at the man as he spoke. His blue eyes shimmered a shade darker in memory... and reluctantly knew he was right; he'd never really escaped...

Severus looked at him intently and gently reached over to place a hand over the boy's.

"Your OCD is your control. You control the environment around you, part of that primal instinct which you use to keep yourself safe. To be honest, Rowan, I can't tell you if you hurt someone. It depends. But I can tell you this; if you did hurt someone, it was out of self-defence, and no malice on your part. You are not a killer or a vindictive person that I can see. What we do in the throws of our need for self-preservation is not murderous intent, but an ancient instinct that is present in all nature."

Rowan grimaced a bit with strain, feeling breathless and shaky. He thought he might be ill... ugh... He bowed his head, nodding weakly just enough to show he'd taken all of that in.

Severus looked worried and gently reached for the bottle of tablets, handing him two and a glass of water. "Here... these should help calm you down. Your blood pressure is high. I need to give you something for it. You're not allergic to hyprovaline, are you?"

Rowan shook his head silently, and took his pills unseeingly.

Severus looked sympathetic as he took the pills and then gently reached for his arm, numbed the area and cleaned it with a cotton swab, before giving him the injection and putting the needle aside.

He sighed heavily and looked at the boy worriedly. "You should get some rest. Your heart is under a lot of strain right now. I'm going to give you an injection every three days to help strengthen it."

Rowan looked around, pulling himself out of distraction slightly. "What? My what?" he asked, running his mind back. "Did you say... heart?" he asked, draining of colour.

Severus nodded darkly. "Yes. I'm hearing the first signs of a murmur. Your body is under a lot of stress right now and your heart is taking the brunt of it. I want to make sure things don't get worse."

Rowan flinched slightly, enough to move unwisely while still being injected, and hissed in pain as the needle pulled and tore at skin, but was more worried about what he'd been told. "Dora! DORA!" he started shouted, casting about desperately, grasping wipes and finding it hard to breathe. He had a heart problem! He was going to die, and then his mother would really go mad, and then Dora would be able to do nothing for her... and stupid Draco would get her all to himself...

"What?!" Demora demanded, entering the room at an almost run and glared. "What did you do to him?!" she demanded.

"Nothing!" Severus denied in alarm.

"What is it, Rowan?! What's the matter?" Demora asked worriedly, sitting next to him and soothing his hair.

Rowan shook stressfully, trying to mop up the blood from where the needle had slipped. "B-blood... Dora... Dora... I'm... I..." he stammered, unable to concentrate when he could see blood. It stung when he used the anti-bacterial wipes on it but he had nothing else to use and his OCD demanded sanitisation.

Severus reached over and wiped it clean with a cotton swab and put a bandage over it after casting a charm to get it to stop bleeding. "Just calm down, Rowan! It's not that bad. It's gone now, okay? It's stopped bleeding," he said softly and sighed. "He jerked when I was trying to give him an injection."

"What's the matter, Rowan? What is it?" Demora asked again intently, cupping his cheek and turning his eyes away from the now bandaged cut. "What's happened?"

Rowan couldn't breathe... He just clung to her helplessly, the prospect of dying terrifying, making him go to pieces...

Demora looked pained and hugged him back tightly. "What did you say to him?!" she demanded.

"I told him he had a murmur!"

"You told him WHAT?!" Demora demanded with a frown. "You can't tell him that! He's sensitive!"

"So I can see..." Severus replied, wincing for his slip and reached for another needle, giving the boy a covert injection in the arm, giving him a sedative which should work well with his other drugs to calm him.

"Shh... relax, Rowan! It's alright..." she soothed, stroking his hair and his back gently in worry.

Rowan trembled tensely, but gradually leant on Dora's shoulder limply... until his breaths were very slow and he was otherwise still, obviously unconscious.

Demora sighed heavily, shifting him to lay down and fussing with his covers, frowning darkly as she made sure he was warm and soothed his hair worriedly.

"He's very sensitive about health issues," she explained softly. "He's almost a hypochondriac actually. His father died from simple food poisoning! That's probably got something to do with it. Even small things can upset him... then alone a murmur," she said softly and raised serious grey eyes to look at Severus tensely. "How bad is it?"

Severus bit a lip. "Mild at the moment," he informed softly. "His blood pressure is high though and should be watched carefully, lest he get hypertension. It's not a problem... yet. But I want to give him something to help strengthen his heart. And he needs to eat, Demora. That's first and foremost! He's starting to show signs of malnourishment. And for Merlin's sake, make him drink fluids. He doesn't need to be dehydrated on top of everything!"

Demora nodded darkly, looking at Rowan sadly and soothed his hair almost manically. "I'll explain it to him when he wakes up," she assured softly.

Severus nodded darkly. "Good idea. Oh..." he paused, biting a lip. "You might also want to know that Rowan is self-conscious about being considered crazy... and he doesn't trust himself."

Demora frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he's afraid he could be mad secretly... and that he'll become violent," Severus informed.

Demora blinked. "How... how do you know that? Did he tell you that?!"

Severus hummed. "In so many words, yes... though I doubt he realizes it," he said softly and sighed. "Just... get him to talk if you can, alright? A lot of his problems stem from unresolved issues. I doubt a therapist can compare to someone close to him."

Demora nodded seriously. "Okay..." she agreed softly and stood up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you," she said softly and sighed heavily. "How long will he sleep for?"

Severus hummed. "Several hours. That's a strong sedative."

Demora nodded darkly. "Can you stay here and... watch him? I - I think I should - umm... go and find Draco. I've put things off for too long and I might not get this kind of break for a while."

Severus nodded. "I will," he said softly, frankly as nervous as she was about Draco knowing.

Demora smiled slightly, sensing his nerves and for some reason they made her feel better. She gave Rowan a quick kiss on the cheek, before leaving to go and find her twin...

* * *

Harry had been sitting next to Ron for the past couple of days on and off, mostly just reading, sometimes out loud to the redhead...

Ron's recovery had been surprisingly quick after he'd gotten over the initial danger. He looked less like an Egyptian mummy now and more like a human-being... a half-dead human-being. He was paler than chalk, but his skin was marred by cuts and scrapes but surprisingly few bruises all things considered. The potions and healing charms had done their job.

But Ron was still horribly frail, with tubes in his nose and wrists and wires to monitor his heart and other vitals. Harry had gotten used to the incessant beeping of Ron's fragile, erratic heart, and had even found it comforting after a while, the constant sound assuring him Ron was alive.

His chest rose and fell shallowly with every breath, but otherwise, Ron didn't move, and Harry found himself just watching him silently, having lost interest in his book, and going over the evidence once again in his mind.

"I'm sorry. I tried."

Those had been Ron's last words to him before falling unconscious and Harry had to wonder at them. Sorry for what? Tried what?

It had all been so confusing at first. But Draco's question... how had they known they were coming... had echoed in Harry's head. He'd thought of it before, of course, almost the moment the Death Eaters had shown up. It didn't make sense! How had they possibly anticipated their arrival?

Voldemort had mentioned something about Harry's 'little friend' telling them. That had to mean Ron! Who else would have told them?

But how had he known?

Harry had thought about that one for a long time and he still wasn't sure he had the answer. He had a theory! An outrageous, silly theory but the only one that fit. How else could they explain that Ron had known Madam Pomfrey to be a fraud? That he'd somehow instinctively known he shouldn't go to the infirmary? How else could they explain Voldemort going to such lengths to kidnap him for purposes other than torturing Harry with his absence and death?

But he didn't dare voice his suspicions out loud. To even hint that Ron had told Voldemort they were coming was blasphemy to his mind. He would pretend ignorance of that to his dying day and he wouldn't hold a grudge for it either, though he knew Ron would no doubt beat himself up for it forever if it were indeed true.

It didn't matter. Ron was alive, and Harry's only concern now was making sure his friend recovered from this in every way possible.

He frowned when the beeps on the monitor changed, attuned to the rhythm of his best friend's heart and tensing immediately at the slightest deviation. He sat up straighter and took a seat by Ron's bedside, reaching over to gently soothe some red hair back, looking for other signs of stress, ready to call for Madam Pomfrey, or if it got really bad, Snape.

Ron's head twitched weakly to one side, the pallor more than matching the white of the pillow he rested on. His breaths shuttered slightly, and a finger twitched on one of his hands, that rested folded over his abdomen...

Harry paled starkly and reached for the cool hand that had twitched.

"Ron?" Harry asked shakily. "Ron... are - are you awake?" he asked breathlessly, almost afraid to hope.

The beeps sped up unevenly, and the hand jerked almost spasmodically at the contact, hyper-sensitive to touch... twitchy and fearful...

With an effort, Ron's eyelids fluttered half-open and his eyes roved sightlessly for a moment, trying to get focus... His mind was, to put it tactfully, fucked... His memories were scrambled, his thoughts scattered and disjointed...

"Ron! Ron..." Harry whispered shakily, seeing his eyes roaming almost fearfully and confused. "Ron, it's okay! You're safe now, okay? Everything's fine. You're in the infirmary. You're okay..." he assured, still holding the hand despite the jerk. "Can you hear me?"

Ron tensed up and twitched a little at the voice, recoiling automatically, looking at Harry for a moment without so much as a glimmer of recollection in his traumatised blue eyes.

Harry looked shocked and shook his head. "Shhh! Shh... Ron, no! No, calm down, okay? It's me! It's -- it's Harry!" he exclaimed, looking suddenly pained. Snape had warned it could be bad, but Harry had at least expected some kind of recognition! "You know me, right?" he said softly, holding the hand now in both of his intently.

Ron looked uneasy, lowering his eyes to the hands wrapped around his own... His breathing was very shallow and fast in tension and thinly-veiled fear... and there were uneven, quick beeping noises coming from somewhere too... He felt the fear, could recall the pain, but beyond that, Ron had only a vague grasp of what was going on...

He felt the pain but couldn't remember why, he felt the fear, but it was the same story, only the memories of screaming giving him any clues in his first hazy moments of consciousness... and this person was holding his hand... and seemed nice.

But Ron was too afraid to be open right away. He just felt like... as he said... that perhaps he knew him.

Nothing was said in reply, Ron just lay still watching the youth beside him intermittently, then letting his gaze wander elsewhere slowly, his hand being held constantly. His breathing slowed gradually, as did whatever the beeps indicated... though they remained uneven and erratic as they had been before...

At long length, like a slow dawn, shafts of information lit the blank sky of his mind... a little here, a little there... But it was a slow process, and one that made him, in some ways, feel more lost than ever.

Harry watched his friend silently for long, silent moments, seeing him look lost and frightened, and could do nothing but hold his hand as though waiting to see what happened next. Finally though, when it was obvious Ron wasn't going to respond, Harry let out a shaky sigh.

"Okay... let's... try something else then, alright? Are you thirsty?" he asked and held Ron's hand with one hand but reached for a glass of water by his bed with the other. "You want something to drink?" he asked softly, almost encouragingly.

Ron looked around after a moment, realising he'd been spoken to again, then forced a wan sort of smile -- or it was supposed to be a smile, it was impossible for him to tell if he made it.

"You... look... tw-itchy, Harry," he whispered in observation, voice sounding rough and faint, but fairly lucid. He held up his own free hand slightly, feeling it shake, reaching for the glass, thirsty being an understatement.

Harry looked so relieved he could have cried and smiled shakily back, handing him the glass, but supporting it still as Ron drank, judging rightly that he wouldn't be able to hold it for himself as he drank deeply.

"No... not twitchy. Just... worried out of my mind," Harry admitted shakily.

Ron downed as much water as he could possibly manage, feeling it all hit his empty stomach - which was actually still healing, unbeknownst to him. When the glass was drawn away, Ron rested his hand on his chest again, and looked around to Harry again, "Where... where am I?"

"Hogwarts," Harry said softly. "The infirmary," he answered softly, taking the glass from him.

"Are... my parents... alive?"

Harry blinked blankly. "What? Of course!" he exclaimed.

Ron exhaled a shaky breath of relief, closing his eyes for a moment and swallowing thickly. "G-good... that's... good," he murmured.

Just a dream, it was just a dream.

With a grimace, Ron tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but he trembled and couldn't support even his own small weight. The beeps got hectic, he felt light-headed, and had to lay down again.

"Careful! Careful, Ron!" Harry said shakily, looking worried as he adjusted his covers and gently soothed his hair worriedly. "You have to take things very slow, okay? You're still healing," he said softly, looking tense.

"I... feel - like crap..." Ron murmured thickly.

Harry winced softly. "Are you in pain?" he asked reaching for a potion. "Snape left me a potion to give you," he said softly and put it in the IV so it would work to help quickly. "And I'm not surprised you feel like crap. You look like crap... no offence," he said softly.

"Thank you," Ron murmured, meaning to be deadpanned, but felt an automatic "Master," add itself onto the end. He half-closed his eyes, and looked strained for a moment, memories more defined now.

Harry frowned. "What?" he asked softly. Had Ron just called him 'Master'?!

"Nothing..."

Harry bit a lip, sitting at his bedside and reaching for his hand again. "You called me 'Master'," he pointed out softly.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron breathed, changing the subject.

"The library," Harry said softly. "She's secluded herself in there, but she comes by at least three times a day to check on your progress. In fact, she should be by soon, I'm sure."

"I hurt... all over. Painkiller," Ron whispered in request, not even realising he'd had one already.

"You just had one," Harry said softly. "Give it a moment to work, okay? And if it doesn't in a moment, I'll give you another," he said softly, looking pained for his friend's pain.

Ron's hand was shaking weakly in Harry's. "How did..." he trailed, eyes shadowing as another glimmer of memory returned, an unpleasant detail he could have done without...

"What?" Harry asked softly, looking worried at the look. "What is it?"

"We... got away... How?"

Harry bit a lip. "Hermione and I rescued you," he said softly and looked wry. "With a lot of help from Draco, believe it or not."

Ron didn't give a toss about Malfoy... Some things apparently didn't change after earth-shattering torture.

"But... how? They - didn't catch you?"

Harry's eyes darkened. "Yes, Ron... they caught me," he said softly and bit a lip. "They knew we were coming."

Ron looked strained. "I know... I'm - sorry."

"Don't," Harry said firmly, almost sharply.

Ron's breathing shallowed and sped up a little, even as he shook his head. "But I... I shouldn't have... I don't even know how -- I just... and it was after so much..." he stumbled incoherently, looking even paler and weakly distraught.

"Stop it!" Harry hissed intently, reaching over to cup his friend's face and looked at him intently. "It didn't happen, Ron. Understand? Whatever you said...whatever happened... I don't care. As far as I'm concerned, it never happened! And you are never to speak of it or think of it, understand? We got out. That's all that matters. What you said in those circumstances doesn't count. I saw what — what state you were in. In a place like that.. no one can fault you for anything, understand? It's over."

"I... betrayed you..." Ron whispered.

"No!" Harry said sharply, green eyes blazing intently. "You haven't betrayed me... now or ever, understand?!" he said firmly and closed his eyes, resting his forehead to Ron's. "Don't you ever say that."

Ron grimaced, breaths shuddering with weakness and strain, and even less than lucid, feeling shaken by the forgiveness... or rather, denial... "I just - wanted it to stop," he breathed.

"I know..." Harry said softly. "I know, Ron. It's okay. Please..." he whispered softly, drawing back, eyes pained. "Don't say anything more, okay?" he pled softly and soothed his hair. "Let's just focus on getting you well again, okay?"

Ron nodded as much as he felt able, extremely pale, every freckle standing out starkly. "My... my chest hurts," he murmured, wincing.

Harry winced softly and nodded. "I know..." he said softly and reached for a syringe which Severus had left for another problem entirely... Ron's heart. It was severely weakened and he knew it would be some time before it was back to full strength again. Chest pain was natural apparently...

Harry gave him the injection via the IV in order to help calm the fragile heart down and put it aside. "That should help," he said softly.

Ron swallowed slightly, eyelids heavy. "I... thought I was-" he breathed, but cut himself off wisely, and closed his eyes, easily worn-out.

"Thought you were... what?" Harry asked softly, pulling the covers up over him warmly.

"-Going to die..."

Harry winced softly, biting a lip and silently reached for his friend's hand.

"No..." Harry said softly. "No, because... I wasn't there. We die together, okay? Close to two hundred... our teeth falling out and laughing at each other as our bodies fall apart, alright?" he said shakily with a small smile and looked at Ron seriously. "I'll always come and save you so long as there's a breath in my body," he vowed softly.

Ron looked up at his best friend weakly, guilt gnawing away at him, making him more withdrawn than he already was...

"Same... always..." he murmured, very quietly, then closed his eyes and drifted off.

Harry's eyes filled as Ron went to sleep and he silently sat by his bedside... and cried tears of relief, of pain for Ron's pain, of guilt for not getting there sooner, but mostly he cried for Ron because it was so unfair. Ron was one of the most wonderful people Harry knew and he deserved nothing but happiness... and yet he'd had to suffer through this.

So Harry cried bitter, silent tears for his friend, who obviously couldn't cry for himself.

* * *

Good? Bad? R&R:-D More coming soon, providing I have enough reviews to warrant more posting. 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Canon not mine; Rowan and Demora mine. Harry Potter universe is JK's.

Author's Notes: Thank you for the reviews, please keep up the interest. Oh, and about this chapter – Demora finally tells Draco.

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**Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes**

-Chapter Nine-

* * *

The monotony of classes again.

He could appreciate that Charms was not as risky or likely to end in gory death as his latest adventure had been... but even so, Draco was quickly under motivated.

This had largely to do with the other Slytherins, who had started up some kind of campaign... a campaign to jump him at every opportunity; and not in the nice way. He'd had to resort to violence to put a stop to it, the power game for once not something he wanted to tolerate, and this had only made them more annoyed... afraid, but more annoyed...

So Draco digressed, and rubbed an arm through his robe that was still suffering a bruise. He pointed his wand at his rat, and turned it into a turtle... then into a rabbit... then into a small pheasant... and back to a rat.

Considering the actual spell required was simply to turn the rat into a pheasant, he thought he passed... He copied a few of the notes Flitwick had written on the board, but couldn't really be arsed. He'd put a little more work into exams, and that would get him through the year... This was all too easy for him now.

The bell finally rang to signal the end of classes and all the students sighed in relief to know that Friday had arrived and they had a whole two days of weekend to look forward to...

Draco left the classroom quickly and hid around a corner until the Slytherins had dispersed trying to locate him. Smug that he'd managed to avoid a skirmish, he wandered up to his bedroom and changed, pulling on light-blue jeans and a grey t-shirt instead. Admittedly, the casual clothes were addictive... It was probably just a matter of feeling 'daring' for wearing them...

In any case, he picked up his satchel again (as he thought it safest to keep important things with him at all times, not the least of which was a first-aid kit), and left his room to head up to the astronomy tower. A little fresh air was just what he needed after stuffy classrooms, and frankly, he wasn't entirely sure whether or not he was allowed on the grounds since he'd been 'grounded', so he daren't risk it... He could get fresh air this way.

The area was deserted, unsurprising as it was cold now that autumn was setting in... and people had better places to be at the beginning of the weekend. He sat out on the battlements composedly, balancing and staring out across the grounds, Hogsmeade and the distant horizon...

Finding Draco had not proven to be an easy task. Almost the moment she'd stepped out into the halls, she'd encountered boys dressed in green school uniforms (whom she accurately assumed were called 'Slytherins') hitting on her as if she were a piece of meat! She'd firmly (and rudely) told them she wasn't interested, and tried asking around but no one knew where he might be.

Eventually she encountered a very stern looking woman who told her she might try the astronomy tower and gave her directions on how to find it.

Demora was glad she'd taken the advice.

She watched silently as her brother sat on the battlements, noticing the wind teasing his blond hair, and not failing to see that he still looked exceptionally thin as though even with steady food, he had a hard time gaining weight. She felt her stomach twisting with nerves, wondering if he'd be angry, happy, or worse... indifferent.

What if he no longer wanted the trouble of a twin sister?

She silently dismissed the thought and came forward, leaning on the battlements not far from him and biting a lip thoughtfully. "Nice view," she said softly and determinedly did not look down, refusing to admit she was afraid of heights.

Draco looked around, not startling, to his credit. It would have been a bad idea in his precarious position. He smiled a little, dryly. "Ah - well, look who's seen cause to join the rest of the world. It's been a while... Do let me know if you need any help remembering how to communicate politely or function in society, but then, I don't think you did either of those conventionally to begin with."

Demora smiled slightly and hummed. "No... I didn't. And I'm sorry. Rowan has had a difficult time of it. New places... they unnerve him," she said softly, wincing slightly. "He's been having a series of panic attacks and I couldn't leave him. He's resting though for now."

Draco raised an unimpressed eyebrow and hummed, rather dispassionately, unable to relate to such things... "I see. Thought you'd get a little fresh air then? We had the same thought."

Demora nodded slightly, biting a lip. "Apparently so," she said softly and sighed. "Actually, no. I - umm... I came looking for you specifically."

Draco didn't look away from the horizon. "Oh?" he drawled quietly.

Demora nodded slightly. "Yeah..." she said softly and opened her mouth as though to say something, before frowning in frustration at herself. "Your housemates are pigs, by the way! They were hitting on me as if they'd never seen breasts before."

"They still haven't if they had only you to go by," Draco smirked thinly.

Demora's mouth opened in outrage. "Ugh!" she exclaimed. "That is the most outrageous thing I have ever heard in my life! My breasts are just fine, thank you, and absolutely none of your business! And with an arse like mine, I don't need big breasts! I've been told on multiple occasions that my curves are just fine, thank you very much and further more-" she cut off and then smiled thinly. "You did that on purpose," she accused.

Draco hummed questioningly, looking around amused. "Most of what I say is deliberate... Sounds don't just spurt from my lips at random - there is generally some planning gone into it."

Demora hummed. "I'll remember that," she said and tossed some pale blond hair over her shoulder. "In any case... I wanted to talk to you," she informed.

"And yet you seem to be doing more stalling than talking."

Demora nodded slightly, biting a lip thoughtfully. "True..." she said softly. "Which is odd because I'm usually the type to just say what I'm thinking," she said softly and sighed heavily, leaning her arms on the battlements and looking out at Hogsmeade.

"We followed you from Hogsmeade," she informed softly. "I spotted you coming out of one of the shops and... I asked Rowan to help me follow you."

"Yes," Draco agreed quietly. "I remember seeing you outside... and I saw him in the restaurant we ate in... Credit me with sense enough to have worked that much out."

Demora rolled her eyes. "Well fine, Sherlock! Sorry for taking my time and building up to this," she said softly, and looked at him intently. "You're not even going to ask me why?"

"I have a pretty good idea," Draco replied. "But I assume you're going to tell me, so I don't have to guess."

Demora hesitated. He had a pretty good idea?

"I don't have a crush on you," she assured. "It's not a crazy lover stalking thing."

"Oh..." Draco said. Well, that was his idea out then.

Demora's lips twitched slightly in amusement. "Sorry. It's not that you're not gorgeous or anything, 'cause naturally you are. Don't need me to tell you that."

"Thank you," Draco said quietly, considering for a moment, before slowly turning, leaning his back to one of the turrets and looking at her warily. "So why did you follow me?"

Demora's grey eyes darkened and she looked down at her hands, before gazing out again at the grounds, biting a lip.

"Rowan isn't really my brother," she said softly.

Draco watched her silently. "He isn't? In that case, I'm led to believe he is a monk - else your calling him 'brother' makes little sense... Not that I'd fault that career choice for him; he causes far too many ripples wherever he goes, celibacy would be good for him."

Demora rolled her eyes and smiled slightly. "He'd probably enjoy living like a monk actually. It's far less stressful," she said softly and sighed heavily. "A man brought me to Rowan's house on his nineth birthday. He was... a very large man... sort of looked like the rough criminal type you'd see in prison. But I remember he was very gentle with me, and he kept looking at me piteously as though I were ill or something. He brought me to the Chambers' home and spoke to the man whom I later learned to call father. They talked for a long time and I just sat in the kitchen quietly while Mrs. Chambers gave me something to eat. I remember being very hungry... and very confused..." she said softly and bit a lip.

"The man left me there, and they explained to me that I was going to live with them from now on. I could never go back to my old home because my parents were bad," she said softly.

"Rowan came downstairs, eager to open his birthday presents and he saw me there in the kitchen and asked who I was. They told him I was his new sister," she said softly and laughed shakily. "He said 'But I wanted a dog!' and - it made me laugh," she said softly. "We were best friends from that day forward."

Draco looked decidedly more tense, and was looking at her with a sharper attention, staring almost through her as was his habit... His heart was beating rather fast, he couldn't feel himself breathing at all...

In his mind's eye, he saw the picture of Demora again...

But he dragged his mind out of the gutter, clinging to reality, determined not to get carried away, because the very notion was too fantastic, too unlikely... too lucky...

Demora bit a lip at his silence and sighed heavily. "It was very nice there," she said softly. "Three square meals a day. And I remember my mother... my birth mother... had never let me eat so much... never let me play outside lest I get dirty. But... it was very hard for me for almost a year or two because I had a sibling that I'd left behind," she said softly.

"A twin brother actually. I missed him deeply... cried for him every night. Rowan was the only one who could get me to sleep. They told me soon he was dead... and I believed them because it was easier than believing he was still alive somewhere and I just couldn't see him. They took me to a child psychiatrist because apparently twin separation is very traumatic. By the time I was nine, I was stable... mostly thanks to Rowan," she confided softly.

Draco had folded his arms over his bony chest, and was still staring at her, though less intently, grey eyes shuttered and cooler somehow... His gaze swept up and down her a few times but he didn't look convinced.

"I see..." he drawled softly. "And what became of your twin? Was he dead?"

"No," she said softly. "No, but I believed he was. I was so young... and I couldn't remember my own last name anymore! I just knew my new name... Chambers... and his name. An odd name actually, and until very recently I did believe him dead. Until I saw this news article in the paper where it talked about someone being captured and imprisoned," she said softly and looked at Draco intently for the first time.

"Draco. His name was Draco... and so is yours. I came to England with Rowan to see you in prison, but by the time I got there, you'd already been released. I saw you in Hogsmeade... and that's why I followed you. I heard Harry call you by name," she said softly.

Draco didn't move, didn't even breathe, just looked at her stoically... but his mind raced... warred with itself... caught between logic, possibility and fantasy...

"No," he said at length, very tense, and got off the wall and picked up his satchel. "No..." he repeated and shook his head in denial.

Demora looked at him intently, swallowing thickly at his denial.

"My name is Demora," she said softly. "Rowan calls me Dora... but my twin called me by another name entirely. Either way, it amounts to the same thing," she said intently. "I know you're my twin, Draco. I saw the picture in your bag when I was searching for your potion and shirt the other night."

"No!" Draco exclaimed, turning and tense. "My sister died... she was murdered. She died; don't you think I'd know if my twin wasn't dead?!" he challenged.

"No," Demora said softly. "No, I've considered that... and I looked into it. We were separated, Draco! Separation is equal to death in many ways. The grief would have been the same! It would have felt the same in many ways! And perhaps it was easier for you to believe me dead, rather than believe we were separated forever. I don't know! All I know is that I am Demora and I was separated from my twin brother when I was six years old!"

"NO! Stop it!" Draco shouted, glaring and edgy, finding it easier to get angry than anything else right now.

"No!" Demora shouted back, shaking tensely, her eyes going glassy at his denial. "I remember you, Draco! I remember everything as if it were yesterday sometimes! They used to separate us, remember? But we'd sneak out of our rooms in the middle of the night and you'd read to me! And I'd tend your cuts and I sang you to sleep when the nightmares got too much for you!"

Draco turned away, running his hands back through his hair, almost gripping at it, feeling his breathing get a bit laboured... it couldn't be true, it couldn't be true! But it made... sense...

"No," he repeated, clinging to denial because it was easier to let her stay dead now, easier than knowing they'd lost eleven years... He abruptly hurried for the door to the stairs, trying to get away from the voice of reason, feeling her on his heels. "Leave me alone!" he entreated, running down the very long spiral staircase.

Demora stopped on the stairs, pained to see him running, and something told her he would keep running unless she did something to convince him to stop. But she didn't know what to do! What more could she say?!

An idea came to mind, and so she started to sing, her voice soft and soprano, older than it had been at six, but the words were familiar, and only the two of them had ever memorized it.

"_Come to the window;_

_Look outside!_

_See how the wind blows tonight._

_Angels watch you nearby,_

_While I sing you a lullaby._

_See the moon;_

_Shining there!_

_You can slumber now_

_Without a care. ._

_Angels watch you nearby,_

_While I sing you a lullaby..._"

Draco froze just before turning the corner on the stairs... He didn't move for the entirety of the song, listening to every phrase, knowing the next bit to come and for each phrase of music half-afraid that she'd get the next bit wrong and the illusion would be shattered... and yet, at the same time, terrified that she was singing it perfectly, as only they had known...

He couldn't breathe... he'd just stopped, his shock so complete... but the truth was undeniable...

Very slowly, Draco turned around, the last notes still echoing into silence. That voice, so much more beautiful now than it had been when she was little, had given him Goosebumps along his bare forearms...

"Demora?" he murmured, with the last of his held breath.

Demora's eyes glistened and she nodded, a single tear falling from her eyes as she stared at her twin. "Yes, Draco..." she said softly and smiled shakily. "Though.. I sometimes miss being called 'Mora'..."

Draco was very pale, and so overcome with shock that he didn't even need the excuse of breathlessness to suddenly faint... This being on the stairs, however, led to a harsh tumble down the many remaining spiral stairs, his light frame easily tossed around the remaining flight until he landed finally at the base.

"DRACO!" Demora exclaimed, paling in horror and running down after him, thinking this just typical! She finds her twin, only to have him break his neck on the stairs!

She rushed to him, kneeling next to him and anxiously looking him over for broken bones. "Draco? Oh god... oh god! Okay! Not panicking! Panicking is bad!" she exclaimed to herself, seeing he'd hit his head and was bleeding. She checked for broken bones on his torso and vital areas, but remarkably he was in one piece! Just would have a fair bit of bruising. But she was concerned with his bleeding head and worried he might have a concussion.

She took out a handkerchief, cradling his head in his lap and feeling a sense of deja vu as she tended to his cut, applying pressure and casting healing charms, soothing his platinum blond hair anxiously.

"Draco? Come on... wake up!" she urged anxiously, her voice wavering in fear, thankful he hadn't broken his neck, but worried about that head injury nevertheless. She continued to tend his cut, calling his name to try and rouse him and soothing his hair in much the same manner as she'd used to do as a child.

Draco's eyes rolled open a little, blearily, and threatened to close again, in a bit of a daze.

"Draco!" Demora said urgently and cupped his face, shaking him gently. "Draco, wake up now! Don't you dare go unconscious on me! Come on!" she urged anxiously. "Come on, Drakey! Don't do this! Wake up!"

Draco's eyes remained closed, and he seemed still again...

"Draco?! DRACO!" Demora screeched, seeming to panic. "Damn it, wake up!"

Draco sighed softly, and opened his eyes half-way again, "Stop screeching... honestly... we're not - six now..." he reminded breathily.

Demora relaxed and laughed shakily then bent to hug him, lifting him up slightly to wrap her arms around him and cling. "You creep!" she insulted shakily. "Don't scare me like that!" she exclaimed.

"Sorry... just... lost concentration," Draco breathed, and shakily raised an arm to wrap around her... his twin... in return. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief moment, then moaned plaintively, "I have a headache..."

Demora looked wry, reluctantly drawing out of the hug and soothed his hair. "That's because you 'lost concentration' all the way down the stairs and hit your head," she said softly in worry.

"Yes... that would probably be it..."

Demora smiled shakily and leaned her forehead to rest against his, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky sigh.

"I missed you..." she said softly at last, feeling oddly complete for the first time in years. She had her twin back! It was enough to make her want to cry... again.

Draco smiled a little in return, raising a pale, fragile hand hesitantly to cup her face, finding that his palm still fit it perfectly... and trailed his fingers down over her skin in a gentle caress, attempting to familiarise himself again, to spark that connection that he knew they must have once had...

"And I you," he murmured quietly, honestly.

Demora's grey eyes filled, leaning into the hand and feeling an almost familiar tingle... like a whisper of a memory long forgotten...

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I would have! But... I didn't know for sure until I saw that picture and then... then I just didn't know how," she said softly and winced. "But I spoke to Sevvy. He - he told me things... as much as I could get out of him... about what happened after I left," she said softly and reached up to cup his cheek in mirror of his gesture to her.

"Oh god... Draco, I'm sorry you had to go through it alone..." she whispered shakily. "I wish it had been you who'd been taken the Chambers instead of me! It just seems so horribly unfair..."

Draco took little notice of her words, though he distantly registered them... He was still trying to memorise her face, still trying to get used to touching her as he'd not had issues with touch to the extents he had now when he'd last been with her... and so it was a little difficult to acclimatise now; that said, it was easier to initiate touch with her and allow it back than with anyone else...

He reached up to absently soothe back some of her hair with a hand. "I wish I hadn't believed him..." he breathed, shaking his head at himself. "I should have known... I should have come to find you, not the other way around."

"No..." Demora said softly. "No, Draco. He'd have killed you if you'd tried," she said softly and sighed heavily, reaching up to put her hand over the one at her face and held it gently, turning to kiss the inside of his palm.

"We can't go back and fix what happened. We're together now. We're both alive! That's all that matters." she said softly, and her grey eyes darkened. "We've lost time, but... eleven years out of both our lifetimes isn't too bad. At least it wasn't any longer," she said softly, having always been the optimist of the two of them and she gently reached forward and hugged him again, this time a bit more tightly.

"I love you," she whispered shakily. "And - and I'm so very, very proud of you! You've turned out amazingly wonderful... even better than I had imagined you would! And quite brilliant and witty too, I might add. I think you beat even me in those regards," she said softly, feeling the oddest urge to cling to him as though he might be taken from her again at any moment, tingling again with that odd, distant sensation that she was certain she remembered now, if only distantly.

Draco wrapped his frail arms about her tightly in return, scoffing a wan laugh softly. "I think you'll be handy to have around... Just keep saying things like that, and you'll earn your keep," he murmured.

Demora laughed shakily and pulled back, soothing his hair affectionately. "In need of an ego boost, little brother?"

Draco frowned. "Little? I'm not little!"

Demora smirked wickedly. "Four minutes," she reminded him.

"Not a big difference... I have more than four minutes' worth experience on you. I think I've been upgraded to the older one by now..." Draco said haughtily.

"Na-uh..."

"Ya-huh."

'Na-uh!" she insisted.

"Ya-huh!"

"Na-uh! Times infinity plus one!"

"Infinity is infinity, you can't have a plus-one..."

"I still win!" Demora said smugly and kissed his cheek with a cocky grin.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine... since I believed you were dead, I will let you win that one... but the war is not over yet," he said simply, and carefully moved to try and stand, always a little unsteady after bumps to the head - which was annoying because they'd occurred so often he ought to have been used to them.

Demora looked worried and winced at his cut. "Take it easy. You're lucky if you don't get a lump!" she exclaimed, reaching out to grab his hand and help him up. "Are you always this unlucky?" she asked curiously.

"I do have more than my fair share of bad karma..." Draco drawled, standing carefully straight, and dabbing at the back of his head briefly to wipe off the last of the noticeable blood. "I must have run over some puppies in a previous life... Or possibly robbed a convent or something."

Demora chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Well... I think you've more than paid for it," she said softly, taking out the handkerchief to dab at his head worriedly. "Maybe now you'll get some good things happen. Me, for example," she said with a small smile. "And your new friends."

"'Friends' is probably a strong word," Draco said softly, and looked dry. He picked up his satchel when she was done dabbing at his cut, then slowly walked down the nearest corridor, taking things slowly as he wasn't particularly steady.

Demora looped her arm with his companionably. "Oh?" she asked curiously. "Interesting how you heroically risk your life for people you don't consider to be your friends," she said softly.

"Yes... I'm interesting like that," Draco agreed.

Demora smiled slightly. "Or you're in denial."

"No, I'm not."

"Yup. You are. I think denial is a big issue for you in fact!"

"Oh, shut up... Go back to saying nice things about how witty I am."

Demora chuckled softly. "You gotta take the good with the bad, brother dear," she quipped.

"Ugh... you know, I think you've got a little more annoying..." Draco said, raising a hand to press a thumb and finger close to accompany his words. Then he paused, frowning, and stopped.

"What is it?" Demora asked worriedly.

Draco was looking at his hand, his right. He detected an odd angle at the wrist... "Hmm, hold on a minute," he said, apologetically, and grasped the hand with his left, and jerked it around abruptly, an audible snap sounding as he put the wrist bone back into alignment. His expression didn't alter, and then he experimentally wiggled his fingers. "That's better."

Demora paled starkly as she watched her brother set his own wrist grotesquely... and fainted.

Draco looked down. "Demora?" he asked, then rolled his eyes and knelt down quickly beside her, picking up one of her wrists and patting the back of her hand. "Demora? Don't be silly... Wake up now," he entreated, looking twitchy when she didn't at first, and reached over to soothe back some of her hair instead.

"Demora?" he asked, and checked the back of her head but saw no blood luckily. "Mora! Wake up right now! I'm not being funny."

"Mmm..." Demora murmured and blinked open grey eyes blearily, frowning slightly in confusion as to why she was on the floor.

Draco hovered over her and held up a hand. "How many fingers?"

"Ugh..." Demora exclaimed and waved off his hand. "That was disgusting!" she exclaimed, sitting up and frowning at him.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "What was? My wrist?"

"No! The other blond setting his own wrist right in front of me! You had a broken wrist and you didn't even notice! And then -- then you just popped it into place, easy as you please!" she exclaimed, making her way to a stand and brushing herself off indignantly.

Draco stood up too, on hand in case she wobbled. He rolled his eyes, "I suppose you'd rather I walk around until it got all purple and puffy?" he drawled. "I noticed it was off so I fixed it, I fail to see the problem..."

Demora looked at her brother incredulously. "You mean... you honestly didn't feel that?"

Draco shrugged bony shoulders. "No... why?"

Demora looked pained, her eyes darkening, and she reached forward and hugged him again tightly in silent sympathy, before pulling back and shaking her head. "Nothing... never mind," she said softly. It was obvious he'd been so hurt he could no longer feel the pain anymore.

Draco gave her an odd look for a moment, then kissed her cheek - trying to copy Rowan, since he actually had the right to kiss her of the two of them - then silently kept on walking, rubbing his right wrist, being sure it was in proper alignment.

Demora flushed at the kiss and smiled slightly. "So... I've been thinking Rowan and I might stick around for a while. I might even think about attending a few classes since I didn't attend my seventh year in France," she said softly and sighed. "That is, as soon as I can get Rowan through this latest crisis," she said softly and bit a lip. "But I want to be here... with you. Especially since you're in trouble," she said softly.

"Trouble? I'm in no trouble..." Draco drawled softly.

"Don't lie to me, Draco," Demora said softly. "I've been getting educated. Our mother is dead but... that man is still alive." she said darkly. "So long as he's alive, you're in danger. Sevvy told me what happened... how they set you up for some kind of test and failed it. I'm glad you did of course! But that's made you their enemy and being close friends with Harry Potter isn't going to help."

Draco sighed wearily. "I see... that kind of trouble. I won't deny I'd like you to stay for a while, but you need to be careful... Your being presumed dead is an advantage you don't want to lose," he said seriously, then stopped again and had to lean on a wall, breathing in that shallow, somewhat laboured way again.

Demora looked worried and anxiously hovered, reaching over to soothe his hair. "Breathless again?" she asked worriedly. "It's probably the strain of the fall and the break! You need to go see Severus, okay? He can help..."

Draco shook his head. "No, I'm fine... I told you - it happens."

"Does he know it happens this often?" Demora demanded tensely.

"Well, no, but--- ah!" Draco exclaimed as Demora tugged him along by the arm. "Ugh... Mora..." he moaned, breathily. "Slow down..."

"I'm taking you to Severus! It's absolutely ridiculous that you'd keep something like this from him!" she exclaimed, slowing her pace just a bit more to accommodate him, but firmly dragging him along.

"I'm fine, I just need a moment to rest!"

"What you need is a doctor!" Demora said firmly, dragging him to her suite that she shared with Rowan and entered.

"SEVVY!" she demanded, in much the same way she'd called for her father or mother at the Chambers. "Sevvy!"

Severus frowned, exiting Rowan's bedroom and put a finger to his lips. "Shhh! He's sleeping! What the devil is--" he cut off, seeing Draco. "Oh... I see..." he said softly and frowned, approaching the blond worriedly. "What's the matter?"

"He fell down the stairs, bumped his head, broke his wrist, and now he can't breathe! This happens often by the way. And you might want to check on the stab wound in his side to make sure it's healed properly." she tattled openly.

Draco pulled his hand out of hers. "You are such a little grass!" he exclaimed. "My side is fine and healed over! The bump is nothing, and my wrist will be fine!" he exclaimed breathlessly, and abruptly had to sit down. "But... breathing is... I grant... a minor issue. It'll pass... She's just irrational - she has her period," he said knowingly.

Demora's eyes widened indignantly. "Uh! That is none of your business!"

Severus shook his head. "I don't want to know about her period! But I do want to know about this breathing problem of yours and the bump and the wrist!" he exclaimed. "Demora, fetch my bag," he said, taking a seat next to the boy and taking the bag from her, removing his stethoscope and placing it to the boy's chest. "Just how much of a 'minor issue' is this breathing?" he asked shrewdly, listening to the rasping, constricted intake of air through his scarred lungs with a dark frown.

"It happened in the woods. We had to slow down or he'd have passed out!"

"It depends - entirely on what I've been doing! If I... sit in a room all day - reading and snoozing, I can't say I'd have a problem! If I am on a rescue mission - for which I walk miles, yes, it can happen!" Draco exclaimed indignantly, trying to push the scope off his chest repeatedly to distort Severus' listening.

"Draco, damn it hold still!" Severus snapped tensely, gently pushing his hands aside to listen with a frown. "If you've been having constant problems, why didn't you come to me?"

"Because he's a prideful knob-head," Demora muttered.

"Can you please ground her too? She just called me a knob-head!" Draco pled, and frowned. "I didn't come to you because it's not important."

"Like hell it isn't," Severus said darkly and looked at Draco seriously. "Your lungs have started to react to the scar tissue that's present. They're contracting and your airways are constricting," he said softly and sighed heavily. "Draco... I think it's safe to say you have asthma. Not just asthma, but a severe form of it," he said darkly. "You're lucky you haven't had an attack before this!"

"What?!" Draco exclaimed, drawing a few harsh, laboured attempts at breath that wheezed. "You're - pulling my leg! I don't - have asthma! It's just - scar tissue!"

Severus sighed heavily. "Draco... asthma is often caused by scar tissue!" he exclaimed and reached into his bag, drawing out an inhaler and put it to the boy's lips. "Here... take a breath from this. It will help you breathe.."

"I don't need - help to-" Draco began, but was cut off as he was given the inhaler and gave himself a wary spray of it as he breathed in. He looked almost dizzy for a moment, and wavered in his chair.

Severus reached forward, gently soothing his hair in worry. "Are you alright?" he asked worriedly. "Was it too strong?" he asked, having given the boy one of the stronger dosage inhalers.

Draco's chest rose and fell at shallow, regular intervals. "No, it... helped surprisingly," he breathed quietly, disappointed because this meant he really did have asthma... bad asthma... Stupid lungs.

Severus looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Draco," he said softly. "I suspected this might happen, but you always told me it wasn't that bad. I should have known better. It's my fault," he said darkly and sighed. "Keep that inhaler on you at all times and use it when you feel breathless. I'll make sure to have spares handy just in case," he said softly.

Draco nodded wearily, resting back against the chair, breathing with controlled intakes of breath, appreciating the brief respite from difficulty, looking rather pale.

Severus frowned worriedly and reached for the boy, plucking him up out of the chair like he would a stick and lifting him into his arms. "Can he use your room to rest in, Demora?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed, leading the way into her bedroom and pulling the covers back for her brother.

Severus carried Draco to the bed and lay him down in it, covering him up warmly, the two of them hovering over him as though he might break. "Take an hour and relax, alright? How's that wrist?" he asked.

Draco looked mutinous for being carted about like a sack of potatoes... not thinking he needed the rest really. "Fine... I set it..." he murmured dismissively.

"He set it himself and didn't feel any pain at all!" Demora exclaimed. "It was gross," she said, pointing to the wrist.

Severus hummed, reaching for the indicated wrist and examined it carefully. "Yes... I'm aware that he's lost sensitivity to pain in his extremities." he said darkly and sighed, reaching into his pocket. "But this needs to be bandaged so it will stay set, Draco. Just because you don't feel pain doesn't mean it's not a serious break," he said seriously.

"Bah..." Draco scoffed dismissively, looking bored, and wearily allowing the bandaging, the fragile wrist starting to look bruised but not swollen. His breaths were shallow as he lay flat, inhaler still in his other hand. "It's not a big deal..." he insisted.

"No... I suppose you don't think it is," Severus said tensely and looked at the boy. "And perhaps I should have explained how things work around here more clearly. I don't care how small the incident... how minute the problem! I want to know, understand? If you get a paper cut, I want to know about it! If you break your little toe, you can fix it yourself but you send me a note telling me about it! And the same goes with any other problem you have," he said darkly, raising his shirt and revealing the bruises on his arms.

"Like bullies," he said darkly, finished with the bandage and starting to rub some salve on the bruises.

Demora just leaned against the bedpost, biting a lip to keep from smiling, resisting the urge to go 'awwww' at the fussing.

Draco shifted to turn onto his side, tugging the sleeve down. "I handled it..." he frowned. "And fine! I'll let you know every time I get the hiccups too, shall I?"

"I would rather you be over communicative then under communicative," Severus replied seriously. "I know you are used to fending for yourself and you hate being under my jurisdiction, but whether you like it or not I'm responsible for you and I'm going to keep you safe and healthy! Speaking of which..." he reached for Draco's shirt since he was on his side and lifted it, seeing the wound was free of a bandage and had indeed scarred over. "Looks like it's healing nicely as you say," he said softly. "What did you use?"

"I don't remember... ask Potter, he did it," Draco drawled wearily.

"You let Potter tend to your wound?!"

"Sevvy, calm down..." Demora advised, gently placing a hand on his arm.

"That boy couldn't heal a pimple, then alone a stab wound!" Severus exclaimed in outrage. "You let him get close enough to tend it?! Are the two of you friends now?!"

"No, we're not!" Draco said, almost sarcastically. "We're just acquaintances who like to go to dungeons together!"

Demora smiled slightly. "They're... umm... getting close... from what I've gathered."

Severus frowned darkly. "Mmm..." he said darkly and sighed, pulling the shirt down and reached over to pull the covers up over the blond. "Fine. Just don't let him perform surgery," he said sardonically. "And I want your word that from now on you'll tell me when you're hurt or if you have anymore trouble with those Slytherins!"

"Fine! You have my word! Ugh!" Draco exclaimed in frustration. "Stop smirking, Demora!"

Demora held up her hands. "Innocent bystander!" she assured.

Severus smiled slightly and reached over to soothe his hair. "I'll leave you two to catch up. Let me know if you need anything." he said softly and turned to leave.

Demora just smiled at Draco in delight after Severus had left.

Draco sat up slightly against the pillows, looking weary and rubbing his bandaged wrist. "What are you looking like that for? Do you find his behaviour amusing? I find it positively irritating..."

"Aww... parents are supposed to be irritating!" she assured, flopping down next to him on the bed, laying on her stomach facing him. "I just think it's sweet you have a Daddy. I'm very happy for you! Rowan's father was like mine in some ways, though we weren't as close as I would have liked. We were getting there though. I'm closer to his mother now."

"I don't have a 'daddy'. He's a godfather to me..." Draco drawled quietly. "My 'daddy' wants to kill me..."

Demora looked at Draco seriously. "That man is not our father, Draco," she said softly. "Not in any way that matters," she said softly and scoffed. "Come on now! You know as well as I do Severus has been more like a father to us than anyone. And he obviously cares for you like a son! He even lectures like a father. It takes more than blood to be a parent. Severus is your 'Daddy' whether you know it or not. Why else would have gone to such trouble for you over all these years?" she asked pointedly.

Draco hummed softly, and shook his head slowly, pale, pinched features thoughtful. "I don't know yet..." he drawled softly, and sighed. "But there's sure to be a reason," he said cynically, and looked at her dryly, finding her uninhibited position lying on her front amusing. "So what about your 'father', then?"

Demora winced softly and bit a lip, looking briefly strained. "He died a few years ago," she said softly and sighed heavily, reaching for a pillow to hug and rest her chin on, still laying on her front. "Food poisoning."

"Food poisoning?!" Draco exclaimed incredulously, the idea seeming even more ridiculous to him than it would to most, knowing as he did what the human body could endure when pushed.

Demora sighed. "I know. It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? But they got him to the hospital and there were some kind of complications," she said with a frown. "It was all very confusing at the time. I know Rowan was with him last before he died." she said softly and her featured softened.

"But he was a wonderful man; very sweet and kind and caring and so patient with me! It seemed no matter what I did, he was right there by my side to get me out of trouble," she said softly and bit a lip. "But Rowan took it the hardest. He was... to put it mildly... devastated... as if he'd lost part of himself," she said darkly.

Draco was silent for a moment, almost having a little more compassion for the handsome brunette -- almost. "I see," he said quietly. "So that was why?"

"Why what?" she asked softly. "Why he's... the way he is now?" she asked.

"Why he tried to kill himself..."

Demora paled slightly. "How did you know about that?"

"Well, it... isn't that difficult to work out," Draco drawled softly. "Your paranoia speaks volumes."

Demora hummed slightly. "Yes, well..." she trailed and sighed heavily. "No... that's not why. I think it might have contributed though," she said softly and bit a lip thoughtfully. "After Father died, Rowan was... as I said... lost. He fell into a deep depression and had to be put on antidepressants. Mother wasn't too much better," she said softly and looked wry.

"I was ironically the most stable. Rowan helped me take care of Mother, and I helped take care of him until he was more stable." she said softly and shook her head distantly. "I never should have let him leave to go to Africa though. Somehow I knew he wasn't ready. He was just... pretending... to be ready for himself... for Mother," she said softly and sighed.

"You must understand though how idealistic and determined he was to make a difference in people's lives. He was like this hero going off, thinking with his heart and not his head! And it was the only thing that seemed to make him happy at the time so how could Mother and I say a word against it?" she asked softly and bit a lip. "But something happened over there and... since then he's never been quite the same."

Draco frowned a little. "Africa?" he echoed, and hummed. "I see..."

Demora's eyes darkened. "He got right into the middle of a civil war," she said softly and shook her head. "He'd never seen things like that before, Draco. He was completely unprepared for it! Can you imagine living in this safe and loving world, and suddenly being thrown into a place where children are holding guns and shooting other children?" she asked softly.

"I know the world of the Death Eaters isn't much different. He would probably be shocked at that just as much! But he saw people die... and he was taken hostage and saw his friends killed," she said darkly and bit a lip. "He feels guilty because he was the only one to make it out alive. When he got back, he was like a zombie. I didn't even recognize him! He didn't speak for days," she said softly, grey eyes going haunted with memory.

"He locked himself in his room and would just hide under the covers... sometimes under the bed... just shaking and panicking. He wouldn't eat... or sleep..." she said softly. "They had to give him sedatives. Mother considered having him put in an institution and... I think that's the only time I can remember her and I ever fighting..." she said distantly.

Draco looked grimly at her, being able to imagine... though the concept was still a little foreign to him personally, being too used to such things.

"I see," he murmured, and leant forward enough to take her hand gently, tingling for the familiar contact. "I'm sorry... But he obviously got better."

Demora wrapped her hand around his tightly, suddenly needing the familiar contact, but her eyes were far away...

"That's what I thought..." she said softly. "That's the scariest part was that... for a while... I thought he was better. The sedatives helped and - and after a while he started talking again. A few months went by and he left his room. He still wouldn't leave the house and little things would set him off. He started cleaning everything from top to bottom! If anything was out of place, he would panic. We had to adjust to his routine. He would only eat certain foods and only at certain times of the day and only if it was arranged on his plate a certain way, things like that. It was far worse than it is now," she said darkly and shook her head.

"But he seemed better," she said softly. "He started smiling again sometimes. And they put him on antidepressants and other medication to control his attacks! Everything seemed fine. Well... not fine but... everything seemed like it would be fine," she said softly and swallowed thickly. "But it wasn't. It wasn't fine at all..."

"Because he tried to overdose," Draco gathered softly, shifting to lie on his side in front of her, head level with hers, still holding her hand and propped by his elbows.

Demora nodded, feeling her eyes sting and looked down at their joined hands. "I came into his room that morning with his breakfast. I noticed he wasn't in bed, which was odd; he only got up at certain times and never before he'd eaten! So I called for him and there was no answer. I noticed the bathroom door open and I went to look," she said softly and looked strained.

"He'd swallowed all his medication. Everything! Two bottles' worth. And one was a very strong sedative. It was enough to put him in a coma!" she exclaimed shakily and shook her head. "I noticed he wasn't breathing and so I screamed for Mother to call the ambulance and--" she cut off, swallowing thickly and closing her eyes tightly, starting to shake now at the memory.

Draco looked tense and held her other hand as well. He briefly considered kissing one of them as he's seen Rowan do, but decided against it, and just held them tightly instead. "And what? What, Demora?" he murmured, suspecting she hadn't talked about this much before.

Demora cried silent tears that she hadn't allowed herself then.

"And... I checked his pulse," she whispered breathlessly. "His heart had stopped beating. I--I didn't know what to do!" she exclaimed shakily. "So I just... opened his mouth and stuck my finger down his throat and forced a gag response. He threw up all over the floor, but he still wasn't breathing so I washed his mouth out and gave him CPR and kept his heart beating until the ambulance got there," she said softly and sniffed softly, reaching up to wipe at her face shamefully with her free hand.

"They got his heart beating again... but he slipped into a coma on the way there. He was out for four days before he finally woke up," she said softly.

Draco nodded silently as he took this in, the imagery graphic, but not in comparison to a lot of what he knew, so he didn't freak out or fuss too much as some might have. He just held her hand and leant forward to kiss her temple, and soothed her hair.

"Shhh..." he soothed, when her breathing hitched. "Alright... it's okay now. He's fine... don't think about it," he encouraged. Opening up was all well and good... but after opening up, you had to take a step back from it too, lest it consume you. At least, that was Draco's personal theory, as he didn't really know much about opening up himself.

Demora silently reached forward to wrap her arms around her twins neck and clung, shaking slightly.

"I'm sorry. I - I shouldn't have gone into this. I'm making an idiot out of myself!" she exclaimed softly. "It's just... it's not over," she whispered softly. "The other night, he said something along the lines of wishing himself dead again and - since then I've been so on edge..."

"Don't be silly... it's fine," Draco drawled softly, and sighed a little, soothing her back. "If he's still depressed, even in the smallest way, those thoughts are natural."

Demora sighed heavily and nodded, wiping at her eyes and relaxing under his soothing touch. "Right... you're right..." she said softly and smiled up at him shakily. "You're really good at this whole.. logical comfort... thing."

"I try," Draco drawled, quirking a wry eyebrow, and drew back carefully, smoothing down her hair in a finicky fashion.

Demora smiled slightly. "Well... thank you," she said softly and scoffed. "Lovely first impression though. Hey guess what! Your twin's an emotional idiot!" she said mockingly with a roll of her eyes.

Draco smiled thinly. "Well, perhaps one of us has to be..."

Demora hummed. "True. You were always the smart one..." she said wryly, reaching over to gently soothe his blond hair back tenderly.

Draco wrinkled his nose and waved her hand off like a fly. "Again..." he drawled. "One of us has to be..."

Demora giggled. "What's the matter? Don't like your hair touched?"

"You'll mess it up," Draco said indignantly, then let his wry look fade. "So... are you alright?" he murmured. "You know, I could try and help, perhaps... if you need a break. I could watch him sometimes..." He paused, then added, "I wouldn't like it, of course, and I doubt he'd like my company much either... but I could try."

Demora smiled shakily. "I don't know, Draco..." she said softly and sighed. "He's... kind of dependent on me now in a lot of ways. I'm not sure how he'd feel about someone else watching him. But... we'll see, okay? I appreciate the offer," she said softly, reaching for his hand and kissed it gently with a small smile. "It's nice to have family to back you up."

"Mmm... yes," Draco said, very quietly. "Is he alright besides this - well - affliction of his?"

Demora sighed heavily. "Well... Severus says his heart has a murmur now 'cause of all the stress. That sent Rowan into a panic attack," she said with a wince. "But Severus is confident that it's not bad yet."

"Ah... murmurs," Draco said knowledgably. "I've read a lot on the subject. Worth keeping an eye on, they can worsen quickly if allowed."

Demora winced. "Thanks..." she muttered mutinously.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "For what? Oh - sarcasm... Sorry. Only trying to keep you prepared, passing on a few beads of wisdom and experience..."

Demora frowned in worry. "Why? You don't have a murmur too, do you?" she asked worriedly and abruptly placed a hand over his chest anxiously.

"No," Draco murmured, with a thin, humourless smile. "Used to, though... for a time. It faded, my heart's sound now... But I did a lot of reading up at the time."

Demora looked tense. "Are you sure it's okay? Does Severus know?! Are you sure you shouldn't get it looked at or something?!" she asked worriedly, the idea of losing her twin again absolutely and utterly terrifying.

"It's fine!" Draco insisted. "He doesn't even mention it anymore... He listened to my chest just now, didn't he?" he sighed. "It was ages ago now anyway... it was only a concern for a couple of months..."

Demora still looked worried and nervously reached over to soothe his hair, whether he liked it or not.

"Well..." she said softly. "We'll keep an eye on it anyway," she said firmly and bit a lip. "So... tell me about you then," she said softly. "I want to know everything!"

"Nothing much to know..." Draco drawled quietly. "I grew up in the manor... Came to Hogwarts... Went back to the manor most holidays. Was half-initiated into the Death Eaters, was given the task of killing Albus Dumbledore... failed in that, went back to the Dark Lord in ill-favour, and was captured by Aurors on a raid about month later."

Demora raised an eyebrow. "There's a lot to cover in between," she said softly. "Do you have friends? I mean, besides Harry and Hermione. Do you have a significant other? Ever been in love? What do you want to do with your life? How did you manage to stay so nice when I know you were treated less than human?! What happened with our mother? If you can even call her our mother.." she said with a roll of her eyes. "All I remember about her was 'sit up straight, don't slouch, eat this way', etcetera."

"Mmm... yes... She died last summer," Draco supplied. "Father killed her; hung her."

Demora's eyes widened. "He hung her?!" she demanded in horror.

"Yes... technically, he hung her, and cut open her abdomen while she was strangling..."

Demora swallowed thickly. "I see..." she said softly and was able to find some pity in her heart for the woman who had born her. "Are... are you okay?" she asked softly. "I mean, I gathered the two of you were never close." she said softly.

"We weren't..." Draco agreed, and didn't elaborate. "I do wish it hadn't been so - messy... Perhaps she didn't deserve it quite so messy. It was over the stair banister, and the mess all ended up on the foyer floor."

"Oh god..." Demora said softly and shook her head numbly. "Why did he do it?" she asked softly. "Just... got tired of her?"

"No... he did it because she tried to kill me..." Draco admitted dispassionately. "...Plus I think he was tired of her. And I think it suited him well at the time; the Dark Lord needed to see some discipline."

Demora paled starkly. "She tried to kill you?!" she demanded.

"Yes," Draco supplied.

Demora looked pained and reached up to cup his cheek. "How? Why?! I - I don't understand. I guess I didn't think she was as cruel as he was because... well, she never got violent with me and I don't recall her being so with you."

"No, she was... just unstable by that point," Draco said quietly. "Jealous... unhappy... frightened..." he shrugged bony shoulders, looking pale and tired with memory. "In any case... such being the case, he had no use for her."

Demora shook her head numbly. "Sick..." she said softly and sighed heavily. "We'll never be like them," she said firmly with conviction. "You're a much better person than our father could ever dream of being," she said seriously. "I'm glad you're nothing like him."

"A sensible sentiment, considering I'd have killed you by now if I was..."

Demora looked wry. "True..." she said softly and smirked. "And you wouldn't be half so charming."

Draco mock-preened. "There is that..."

Demora chuckled softly and sighed. "Well... I should probably check on Rowan," she said softly, looking torn and openly reluctant to leave. "Are you going to be alright? Asthma isn't exactly a good thing," she said with a worried frown. "That's fairly serious actually! You really need to do what Sevvy says and rest, okay?"

"I don't have asthma," Draco denied mutinously, without much force.

Demora bent to kiss his temple. "Of course you don't, dear." she humoured.

"Right... and don't you forget it," Draco added, tensing briefly for the kiss - as if not sure what she'd been about to do - before relaxing his taut shoulders a little.

Demora looked sympathetic. "Aww... you're so tense!" she exclaimed, reaching over to gently soothe his shoulders to try and ease the tension.

Draco turned, trying not to have his back to her. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm trying to massage your shoulders, silly! Stop squirming!" she exclaimed, insistently rubbing his shoulders gently.

"It's hard to stop squirming when my back is being attacked! Stop it!" Draco wriggled.

Demora pouted and withdrew her hands. "Obviously you haven't an appreciation for the finer arts of massage," she said softly.

"It's not a 'fine art' at all - more like rough kneading! You're like a cat fondling a pillow! Well, I'm not a pillow... and don't care to be pummelled as one."

"I was trying to be gentle!" she exclaimed and folded her arms with a frown. "So much for gratitude!"

"This is gratitude... You'd know if I was truly upset."

"Well... for your information I wasn't treating you like a pillow. Pillows are soft."

"Insinuating--?"

"That you're so skinny that you lack any kind of soft padding!" she exclaimed, gently reaching over to poke his arm.

Draco looked down at the poke then frowned slightly. "Not on the chunky side yourself!" he retorted, indignantly.

"No... but at least someone could lay in my lap without risking bodily harm!"

"Someone lying on me wouldn't hurt said person... I would hurt the person, and shove them off, but the lying wouldn't have caused them any harm."

Demora looked at him curiously. "Do you really hate touching that much?"

"Yes..." Draco drawled quietly.

Demora looked sad. "I'm sorry..." she said softly. "But Draco, there are nice forms of touching. Touch can be an enjoyable thing! It all depends on who's doing it I suppose."

"Mmm... quite..." Draco said quietly, and was silent for a moment, looking like he might ask something... but was interrupted.

"Dora...? DORA?!"

Demora winced. "Oh dear..." she said softly. "Coming, Rowan!" she exclaimed. "I'll be right back!" she exclaimed and scrambled off the bed, rushing into the connecting room and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for the brunette and soothing his hair worriedly. "Shh... it's okay! I'm right here. Everything's fine!"

Rowan sat up and clung to her shakily, having woken up feeling groggy, to see her nowhere near.

Demora looked pained and hugged him closely, rocking him gently and soothed his back. "Shh... it's okay. I'm right here. Everything's fine, Rowan! Just calm down..."

Rowan forced his harsh breaths to slow down and then drew back, looking very pale and strained. "D-Dora... I... he was... when he was here-- My heart, he said -- I --"

Demora shook her head and cupped his face. "Shh... it's okay, Rowan. It's not as bad as you're taking it, alright? You're just a little stressed is all, but he's going to give you something to help make your heart better, alright?"

"Like wh-what? I can't take steroids... or - or those stabilising solutions-" Rowan said in a rushed tone.

"It's a strengthening solution. That's all I know. I'll ask him more details later, okay?" she assured softly. "But it's not bad yet. We just need to watch it and make sure it doesn't get worse. And stressing over it isn't going to help, Rowan! You need to try and stay calm, okay? Relax..." she said softly and handed him his tablets. "Here... double dose this time. "

Rowan put a hand to his chest, feeling his pounding heart distractedly, ignoring the tablets.

"Rowan? Rowan, listen to me!" Demora said firmly and cupped his cheek, looking at him intently. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay? You're going to be alright. You're just going through a hard time right now, but this will pass."

Rowan swallowed and nodded weakly. "O-okay," he breathed, forcing a few calmer breaths. "Okay... alright..." he murmured and kissed her cheek shakily.

Demora closed her eyes at the brief kiss, feeling her skin tingle at the contact, but tried to ignore it. She soothed his hair and sighed, handing him the pills. "Take these for now, okay?" she said gently. "I know it's hard right now, but you'll get used to this place and be able to get around eventually. You just have to be careful and take things slow, alright?"

"Yes... right, yes," Rowan murmured, taking the pills quickly, downing them easily.

Demora smiled slightly. "I got you something that might help. And I have good news too! But first, let me give you your present." she said and went over to a drawer, opening it up and coming over with a box.

She opened it and showed him a pair of black gloves. "I figured you could wear these whenever you finally decide to venture out. You won't have to touch anything!"

Rowan smiled shakily, brightening a tad. "Oh... how thoughtful. Aren't you lovely?" he murmured, forcing a faint laugh as he picked them up and examined them, then kissed her cheek again happily and gave her a tight hug, encapsulating her in his arms. "Thank you!"

Demora felt herself melt inwardly and flushed pink, hugging him back tightly. "You're welcome."

Rowan drew back eventually after a moment, and his smile faded a little at her expression... sensing something off. "Are you okay?"

Demora nodded shakily and forced a small smile. "Of course," she said softly, silently cursing herself and her pounding heart. She drew back a bit. "I - umm... I have good news! I told Draco," she informed, changing the topic.

"Really? How did it go?" Rowan asked, easily diverted.

Demora grinned brightly. "Better than I imagined. Well... I mean, at first it was bad; he was in denial and then he fell down the stairs." she said with a frown. "But after that, it was wonderful! It was almost like we'd never been separated," she said with a small smile. "But we found out he has asthma. He's resting in my room across the way just now. We were just... catching up," she said softly, her grey eyes shining with obvious joy at finding her twin.

"Ah..." Rowan said softly, biting a lip, before managing a smile and hugging her lightly again. "Well, I'm so happy for you... You did it; you found him."

Demora nodded and looked at him seriously. "I couldn't have done it without you, Rowan." she said seriously. "I can't thank you enough, really!"

"Oh... no problem... least I could do was help," Rowan murmured softly, and tentatively got to the edge of the bed and stood up, shivering a bit with cold at being out of the confines of the warm covers.

Demora blinked. "Are you getting up?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah, umm... nature calls."

"Ahh.." Demora said softly and smiled slightly. "Well... why don't you take a shower while you're at it? I'll tidy up."

"Oh... no need. You, um... get back to catching up... I'll shower and then get back to bed."

Demora hesitated before nodding slightly. "Alright." she said softly. "Call if you need anything."

"Will do."

Demora still looked hesitant, but left him to tend to his business and returned to her twin, smiling slightly. "Sorry about that. He woke up panicked... a bit unnerved still from what Severus told him."

Draco was lying on his back with arms folded behind his head casually, almost dozing, but keeping himself awake... "Ah," he said when she came back, opening his eyes.

Demora looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry you have to share," she said wryly, coming back over to lay on the bed next to him. "Why don't you get some sleep, okay? And when you wake up, I'll make us something to eat and if Rowan's sleeping, you can give me a tour of the castle."

"I don't sleep if I can help it," Draco drawled.

Demora looked sad. "Bad dreams?" she guessed.

"In a fashion," Draco murmured. "But beyond that... I just find sleep unproductive. I understand that it is necessary, but I don't like it... It's too-" he cut off, frowning at the ceiling as he thought of a word, "-vulnerable."

Demora frowned sympathetically, reaching for his hand gently. "There's nothing wrong with being vulnerable, Draco," she said softly. "It's not so dangerous if you're vulnerable around people you can trust."

"Mmm," Draco hummed, and turned his head towards her. "Is he sleeping again?" he inquired. If he was, then he might as well give her the tour now.

"No. He wanted to use the bathroom and take a shower and then said he'd go back to bed," Demora said softly.

Draco propped himself up on a shoulder. "What? You mean... he's in the bathroom?"

Demora blinked. "Yes..." she said softly. "Why?"

"Shit..." said Draco eloquently, slipping off the bed and rushing across to the other bedroom and to the bathroom door beyond that. The sound of a running shower was audible but the pouring sound was constant as if it was just hitting the bath and no one was beneath the stream...

"Rowan?" he banged on the door. "Open the door! Demora wants to talk to you!"

Demora's heart was pounding as she hurried after him. "Rowan? ROWAN! Open the door!"

Draco heard a small rattle of a fallen pill bottle, and pulled his wand from his black jeans pocket and started to charm the door, breaking the lock easily.

When the door opened, it was to reveal the brunette already on the floor, a nearly-empty bottle not far from his hand, his face pale... Draco knelt down next to him quickly, pushing a hand down over the outstretched wrist, feeling for a pulse there and detecting at least a faint one...

He picked up the bottle with a frown to see what they were dealing with, and saw that he'd taken aspirins located here in the bathroom... That ought to have been a lucky thing, save for the fact that he'd taken all but - one, two, three, four - of them in the bottle.

"ROWAN!" Demora screamed, kneeling next to the brunette, shaking in panic and trying to remain calm, but it was hard. "Draco, go get Severus! Hurry!" she shouted.

Draco nodded, dropping the bottle and leaving at a run to do just that.

"Rowan? Rowan, can you hear me?!" she demanded, shaking him gently and cradled his head in her lap, crying brokenly and cupping his face, feeling his pulse was rapid and seeing his breathing was quick but shallow, as though it was getting harder.

Rowan's face was stark-white, but his eyes were half-open and staring... Her words reached him as if from a great distance... He nodded jerkily once, and convulsed a bit, coughing up some dark blood...

"Rowan! Oh god... Rowan, stay with me, okay?!" Demora begged brokenly, wiping at the blood at the corner of his lips, rocking him as she cried brokenly and kissed his temple. "Don't leave me... please don't leave me, Rowan..." she whispered shakily in plea.

Severus entered the bathroom at that precise moment and Demora glanced up at him desperately. "Sevvy! Hurry! He's having a hard time breathing and he's coughing up b-blood and--" she cut off, unable to speak more.

Severus didn't have to ask more questions. He knelt on the bathroom floor and opened his bag, reaching for the brunette with a frown. "It was aspirin?" he demanded, taking out a tube and some potions and a black powdery substance. "Draco, get me a glass of water! Quickly now!" he directed.

Draco did as instructed, conjuring it, though he didn't see why Severus couldn't have. He handed it over...

Rowan convulsed a bit again, coughing more blood, and his breaths wheezed with effort, then shuddered and started to fade. He got much paler, and his eyes drifted shut.

"No! NO! ROWAN! Rowan, stay awake!" Demora shouted.

Severus swore and took the water, mixing it with the black powdery substance and then opened Rowan's mouth, forcing him to drink it. The reaction was quick and immediate, the body convulsing as the activated charcoal caused him to start throwing up. Severus got a bin and held it for him as the boy threw up blood and other things, but he frowned when he didn't see enough of the aspirin in the bin.

"It's already moved through his digestive system," Severus said darkly. This was bad. It meant they didn't have much time left.

Almost as if in echo of these thoughts, Rowan started to convulse.

"Draco, Demora! Hold him still! He's having a seizure!" Severus exclaimed and grabbed a syringe, reaching for the boy's arm and giving him an injection to try and stabilize him. He then took out the tube he'd gotten earlier and opened Rowan's mouth, forcing it all the way into his stomach and further down into his GI tract.

"I'm going to empty his stomach and his colon as quickly as I can and pray that the aspirin hasn't damaged his liver," he said darkly and charmed to tube to suck out the contents, pumping his stomach of the digested medicine which was like a toxin to his blood.

"He isn't breathing..." Draco pointed out abruptly, having been watching the progress tensely... if it could be considered progress.

Severus glanced over and saw that indeed, Rowan's rapid breathing had changed to no breathing at all! He grabbed a breathing mask and forced it over his nose and mouth, trying to create an airtight vacuum as best he could with the tube in his mouth, and watched as the mask forced air into his lungs.

He checked his pulse as well and found it to be erratic and faint and Severus broke out into a sweat when he realized this was going to be an uphill battle.

When his stomach was emptied, Severus held the mask to his face more firmly with one hand and grabbed a needle with the other, adeptly giving him another injection to try and stop the bleeding and detoxify his blood. "Come on, Rowan. Damn it, you're not getting out of this without a fight!" he said intently to the brunette.

Demora was just beside herself, having curled into herself not far from him, watching Rowan silently as Severus tried to keep him alive. It was a nightmare... one she had lived through before... only this time she was older and felt like she had twice as much to lose. Every second that went by felt like an eternity and she realized in that moment that if Rowan died, her only reason left to live at all would be Draco.

Severus kept the breathing mask on him, forcing him to breathe as he gave him injection after injection to try and purify his blood. He also gave him potions to stop the bleeding and the shock to his nervous system. After a while, Rowan's pulse started to slow and regulate, and Severus could see his shaking had stopped. He was stabilizing... barely...

Severus nodded shakily. "We need to get him to the infirmary," he said softly. "He needs to be monitored closely for the next several hours! He could very easily slip into a coma," he informed, reaching for the brunette and lifting him carefully.

Demora couldn't move at first. She didn't trust her legs. She could only take things in as if seeing them from a distance, her own heart pounding in terror which she found it hard to surface from. Only when she felt Draco's hand on her arm did she move, silently reaching for his hand, his presence giving her a kind of stability which she otherwise would never have had.

She followed Severus numbly as he carried Rowan to the infirmary and attached him to tubes and monitors and wires and consulted with a nurse who helped Severus give him potions. She silently gripped her twin's hand as though it were her only life-line, never taking her traumatised, haunted grey eyes off of Rowan...

Draco stood by, supporting silently in a stoic, stable fashion. He watched as well, but found his gaze stray to his twin after a while, able to feel her shock, her dismay... her anger... He said nothing, just interlaced his bony fingers with hers.

Severus got Rowan settled and finally turned to the twins, seeing them holding hands and oddly reminded of times in their youth when they had clung to each other in much the same fashion. Under any other circumstance, he would have found it cute.

"We'll watch him for now, but I think he's going to be alright," he tried to assure.

Draco nodded a little, watching Demora for a moment, before glancing beyond her, and raising a hand slightly. "Question."

"Yes?" Severus asked, distractedly adjusting the controls on the brunette's IV.

"Wasn't that empty bed over there occupied by Weasley?"

Severus glanced up sharply and glanced at the empty bed, paling starkly to see it empty.

"Yes.. yes, it was!" he exclaimed. "I didn't order him moved!" he exclaimed, abandoning the IV, all sorts of terrible possibilities popping into his head. Surely he couldn't have been kidnapped from the infirmary twice!

* * *

Authors Notes: Little cliff-hanger for you... Review, my pretties, mwahaha, review! 


	10. Chapter 10

Dislcaimer: HP universe not mine; Rowan and Demora are. JK Rowling still owns all canon HP stuff.

Authors Notes: Thanks for the reviews, peeps. Please review again... and keep reading.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes**

-Chapter Ten-

* * *

The water trickled from his head to his thin neck, down his bony back and his withered legs... The water hitting the porcelain was a constant, peaceful sound, enough to blot out the screams, irregular whip cracks and sizzles of red-hot iron... Almost enough to blot out the pain, but not quite...

Ron's vision was a bit hazy and he was dizzy and light-headed even as he stood still in the shower, huddled up in the corner of the cubicle for a good few minutes, lost in flashback despite the relatively soothing water... His chest hurt again, regardless of the fact that he'd located no bandages right over the centre of his chest under his shirt...

The water got cold and he hissed in a breath, coming around. He glared a bit and turned off the taps in annoyance, shivering as he got out of the shower cubicle and wondered what the next step was... He kept forgetting things, simple things... After a pause, he remembered he needed a towel, but then paused as he passed a mirror.

Oh, right... he was supposed to have taken his clothes off first...

Ron plucked at the soaking t-shirt sticking to his chest, his every rib visible when it was flat to it, then shivered, feeling the cold. He struggled over to some towels and wrapped them around his bone-thin, wet-clothed frame.

Slowly, Ron sank down to the floor, bundled up in the blanket, unable to summon the sense to take the wet clothes off and dry himself properly... His haunted blue eyes stared at the tiled floor blankly, seeing blood on them every time he blinked... so fragile he looked almost breakable...

"RONALD!"

Severus called for him constantly, having checked every inch of the infirmary and asking around to see if anyone had seen him. Finally, he tried the infirmary bathrooms and paused then paled in horror when he saw Ronald sitting on the floor, bundled up in towels and seeming to look at nothing, paler than a ghost and so fragile and delicate it ached to look at him.

"Ronald..." Severus whispered softly in both relief to see him and horror to see him like that! He rushed to his side and bent down next to him, literally freaking out to see him out of bed and in such a state. "What are you doing out of bed?! My god... you're soaking wet! Are you trying to give yourself pneumonia?! You shouldn't be out of bed! We need to get you dried off! Ronald! Can you hear me?" he demanded, anxiously taking a towel to try and dry his face and hair, taking out his wand to cast drying charms on him.

Ron didn't seem to hear or see him at first... but once he was touched, he flinched violently and tried to turn into the wall away from him with a panicked gasp of shock.

"Ronald! Calm down, alright? I'm not going to hurt you..." Severus assured quickly, gently but firmly grasping him by the shoulders and soothed his hair. "Relax, Ronald! You're going to hurt yourself!" he said tensely. "We need to get you dry and back to bed, alright?"

Ron blinked a few times, cringing but eventually focused. "Snape..." he breathed softly, sounding distracted. "I was... Where...?" he murmured, looking around, suddenly not sure how he'd gotten to the bathroom.

Severus relaxed slightly, seeing he at least recognized him and finished drying the clothes, but he was obviously still cold as his skin was like ice, and with Ron's already weak immune system, that was bad.

"You're in the bathroom," Severus said softly. "I came looking for you. You're supposed to be in bed."

"I needed... the bathroom," Ron remembered slowly. "I got in the shower..." he added obviously, glancing down at himself.

Severus nodded. "I can see that," he said softly. "But you're finished in here now, so what do you say I take you back to bed now?"

"I don't... I don't - know," Ron murmured, frowning and distracted. He shifted, getting uneasily away from the touching, and dragged his weak frame to a stand. His breaths shallowed and he held onto a towel rack for a moment, getting his bearings. "I don't want to be... in bed..." he decided softly.

Severus sighed heavily, as though exasperated. "Ronald... you're not well," he said softly. "You're still recovering from your injuries and--" he cut off, not wanting to go into how weak Ron's heart was. He didn't want to alarm him. "Suffice it to say you need a lot more rest!"

"No... not bed..." Ron argued softly, walking slowly towards the sinks and paused to see himself in the mirror... He slowly tilted his head one way, then the other... almost as if he was finding it hard to reconcile the image as himself and was testing it...

He didn't look... like he remembered.

Severus bit a lip and came over to stand next to him, seeing he looked confused. "Something the matter?"

"Is that me?" Ron asked.

Severus looked at the reflection and nodded darkly. "More or less," he said softly, seeing the reflection was paler than death, frailer than any piece of ancient parchment and he still had scratches on him, and his eyes had dark circles under them from exhaustion.

"I don't look like I remember," Ron said softly, running a shaking hand back through his red hair, then weakly walked on with the sinks as support. He felt dizzy... "I don't like it in the infirmary..."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Then we'll get you a private room," he said softly. "But Ronald... you still need to take it easy. You can barely stand as it is!" he said, noticing the boy's shaky balance.

"I'm okay," Ron argued. "Window. I need to sit at a window..." he added, abruptly.

Severus blinked. "A window?" he asked and hesitated. "There's a window in the infirmary."

"Okay," Ron said, supposing that would do, and tugged his grey t-shirt and material trousers straighter as he methodically walked from the bathrooms back to the main ward.

He located the closest window with a comfortable, cushioned windowseat, and carefully sat down on it once he'd managed the journey there. He was breathing fast and shallow for the exertion, translucently pale, but seemed more occupied by the view through the glass than his difficulty.

Demora, the nurse and even Draco tensed to see Ron come out of the bathroom, and Demora made as if to come forward and help, but Severus held up his hand, silently indicating for none of them to interfere right now.

He patiently watched Ron catch his breath, but didn't leave his side. "Will this do?" he asked softly in regards to the window.

Ron nodded, placing his temple to the cool glass, blinking as he watched the world continue outside... the clouds... the blue sky... rippling lake...

Severus took a seat on the other side of the windowsill and watched him silently.

"Ronald?" he called softly. "Would you mind if I gave you a check up?"

Ron said nothing and didn't move.

Severus bit a lip, deciding he would take that lack of response as agreement and summoned a stethoscope over, gently reaching forward to place the metal disk to the boy's chest and frowned as he listened to the weak, shallow breaths and the erratic, pounding heart beat which was close to palpitating in stress. Severus was worried, because Ron's heart was all the more fragile now.

"Does your chest hurt?" Severus asked softly.

Ron slowly nodded.

Severus nodded, biting a lip and looking at the redhead sadly. "I can give you something that will help," he said softly and took out a green potion bottle, uncorking it and holding it out to him. "Sip on that, okay?"

Ron turned his head slightly, looking at the potion and cringing a little, almost retreating against the window, distrustful and wary...

Severus sighed heavily. "Ronald, please..." he said softly. "Try to trust me." He put the potion aside and looked at the redhead intently. "I know you're confused right now... but I promise that nothing that happens here will harm you, alright? No more pain, Ronald. I'm trying to stop the pain now. I know that's hard to imagine after what you've been through, but you have to try and believe me. I know what happened... and I'm trying to help repair some of the damage, alright?" he said softly, his voice low, deep and intense with sincerity.

Ron looked into the dark, earnest eyes, and blinked his blue ones once, before slowly holding out a hand shakily for the potion.

Worth a shot... What was the worst that could happen? It could be poison and he'd die.

Severus handed the potion to him and was glad he'd started flavouring his potions so that they didn't taste so foul, sighing in relief at the boy's momentary trust in him, eager not to disappoint.

Ron drank the mixture slowly, stomach coiling in protest at having to ingest anything... He handed it back after a moment.

"Someone drinking a potion without gagging - not something I thought I'd live to see," Draco commented sardonically in the background.

Ron looked around sharply, staring at the blond for a long pause.

Severus sighed heavily and winced. "Thank you, Draco. Remind me to have a private talk to you later about the words 'timing' and 'tact'," he said darkly.

"What tact is there to have? He knows it was a potion... He's not that retarded," Draco drawled.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Malfoy..." he said lowly.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, well look at that... Apparently I'm memorable..."

Severus frowned. "Draco..." he hissed. "Be... polite!" he warned softly. Couldn't he see Ron was delicate?!

"Shut up, Malfoy..."

Draco scoffed. "Oh, well when you put it like that..." he mocked.

Ron frowned. "Don't you have some first years to intimidate?"

"Is this counting you?"

Ron pursed his lips. "I'm warning you, Malfoy!"

"Warning me what?" Draco drawled dryly.

"Just warning you! Trying to give you a chance to shut up before you regret it..."

"I rarely regret exercising my wit..." Draco admitted.

"Oh yeah? Well, try exercising some common sense and hold your tongue for once! The last thing I want is to be stuck in the infirmary and listening to you!" Ron said sardonically.

Draco looked around him briefly. "Did you hear something?" he asked his twin. "Little squeaky noise... some kind of weasel? Hard to tell..."

"Maybe it was a ferret," Ron said with a sarcastic smile.

Draco frowned slightly back at the redhead. "Oh, very clever... think that one up yourself?"

"Yes..." Ron murmured. "Incidentally, don't think I don't know what you're up to!"

"What are you talking about?"

"What you're up to with Harry!" Ron said distrustfully.

Draco paused. "I'm not doing anything with him!"

"Oh yeah? Trying to get in his good books by leading him to me? I'd say that's a big something to be doing with him! Harry's just trusting enough to start to like you - and then when he least expects it, you'll pull the rug out from under him!" Ron accused.

"...Firstly, I think you're just a little paranoid. Secondly, I couldn't pull a rug out from under anyone; I have weak arms," Draco said disdainfully, shrugging.

"Weak arms, weak mind..."

"Weak constitution, in your case," Draco retorted. "You make a pretty pathetic sight, Weasley..."

Ron stood up, and would have tried to go for Malfoy in some form had Severus not grabbed his arm. "You just wait, Malfoy! I'll beat you unconscious with your own broomstick! You just wait! If you so much as touch a hair on Harry's head, I'll have you choking on splinters before you can say 'ow'!"

"Until then," Draco said with a small wave a sarcastic little smile, and turned and left the infirmary silently.

Severus was so ridiculously pleased he could barely speak, and if it had been different circumstances, he would have hugged Draco!

He could only stare in shock as Ron was seemed to have been completely shocked back to his senses by the banter and he swallowed thickly, looking at the boy worriedly.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly. "Calm down, Ronald. I'm sure he doesn't mean Potter any harm."

Ron shook his head slightly, "I'm not so sure," he retorted, but put a hand to his chest as he felt it suddenly pang, and had to sit down quickly.

Severus looked worried and anxiously reached over to soothe his hair. "Just relax, alright? You have to be careful, Ronald. You're still very weak and you can't over-exert yourself," he said fussily.

"Ugh..." Ron murmured simply.

Severus smiled slightly, but his eyes were still dark with sympathy. "I don't think it's good for you to be around the other boys in the common room. If I get you a private room...with a window... will you agree to stay there and rest for a while?"

Ron considered for a moment, looking at the professor with clear eyes for once, then sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I guess..." he murmured softly, running a hand back through his red hair.

He noticed the blond girl across the room, and nudged Severus with an elbow. "Who is she?" he asked. Had he got partial amnesia?

Severus hummed. "That's Draco's sister," he said softly.

"Ah," Ron said simply, after a pause. "Poor thing."

Demora smiled from across the room, having heard him and stood up, deciding she might as well make an introduction. She dragged herself away from Rowan and smiled shakily. "Hello. I'm Demora," she said softly, holding out a hand. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm glad you're feeling better."

"He's not feeling better. He's just - pretending to feel better," Severus said darkly.

Demora rolled her eyes. "Let up on him, Sevvy. He can stand! That's a good sign."

"I like to think so... It makes walking around so much easier," Ron supplied softly, taking her hand gently, giving her a small nod and a faint wry smile. It was a forced smile, but a smile nonetheless. He felt oddly self-conscious about being in just a grey t-shirt and some plain grey trousers to match suddenly.

Demora smiled at him, thinking him quite handsome and seeing why Hermione had been so intent to see how he was.

"Well... it's a vast improvement that's all I'll say. Everyone's been pretty worried about you," she said softly. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Ron shook his head. "No..." he assured softly, standing up carefully, a hand to the wall for casual support. He looked at her silently for a moment, then asked, "How old are you? You can't be much younger than Malfoy..."

Demora laughed. "Haven't you heard it's rude to ask a lady her age?" she asked wryly.

Ron paused, and would have flushed if the blood was spare for it. "Ah... yes, actually... Sorry," he said. Mum would've killed him for that...

Demora shook her head and waved it off. "That's fine. I have respect for rude people," she said with a wink. "Actually, I'm older than Draco... by about four minutes."

"Wow... your mother conceives fast..."

Severus looked dry. "They're twins, Ronald!"

"Only recently reunited," Demora explained. "I've been living in France with my adopted family."

"Oh..." Ron said in understanding. "I have twin brothers..."

Demora raised an eyebrow. "You have more than one twin brother? Wouldn't that make you triplets?"

"Umm... no... I have brothers who are twins."

"Ahh..." Demora said softly and flushed pink. "Sorry. Blonde!" she said, indicating her hair. "Happens now and then."

Ron smiled slightly, amused. "Mmm... no problem," he said, suitably distracted for the moment.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I was going to escort Ronald to his new room."

"Oh... I can do that! There's an empty room right next to mine and Rowan's," she said softly, needing to get out of the infirmary... to distract herself from the trauma of earlier. When in doubt, repress! She hesitated and looked at Severus. "Will you stay with him?" she asked softly.

Severus nodded. "Yes...I'll let you know if there's any change."

Demora nodded darkly. "Thank you," she said softly.

Ron hummed and looked down at his clothes briefly, and was just about to ask Severus if he could have a change of clothes when he handed some conjured items over to him before he could even open his mouth!

"Umm, thanks..." he said, wary and surprised, then looked back to Demora. "Give me a second," he entreated, and walked carefully to the bathrooms to change.

Severus looked at the girl seriously. "Demora, listen to me carefully because we don't have a lot of time until Ronald comes back," he said softly. "The only reason I'm allowing him out of this infirmary and to go with you is because this is the first spark of life he's shown since he's woken up. I want you watch him very carefully, understand? He has a weak heart and he can't be doing too much at all! Take him to his room, talk with him, but make sure above all things he rests! Here..." he reached into his pocket and handed her a couple of potions.

"These are emergency potions in case he has severe chest pain or anything else. I hope you won't have to use them. Once he's settled, come back down here and stay with Rowan and I'll be checking in on Ronald constantly. But I want you to be careful, alright?" he said intently and looked at her sympathetically. "And don't do too much yourself. You look like you could use some rest."

Demora nodded seriously, grey eyes dark as a sea at storm. "I will," she assured softly and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry. I'll take care of your Weasley," she assured with a small smile and looked at him seriously. "Just take care of my Rowan."

Severus nodded sombrely. "I will," he assured as well and tensed when Ron came out a few minutes later. "Ronald, you promise me you'll rest when you get to your room?" he asked intently. "And I'll be up later to check on you and make sure you're settling in properly."

And to give him a more thorough check-up from head to toe.

"Uhuh," Ron said dismissively, smoothing the green t-shirt and navy jeans down. They were loose so he'd had to evoke the shrinking option, which made them fit - but made him look far too thin, which he was... It was the first time he'd been fully lucid enough to acknowledge it... but he wasn't surprised.

After everything... he didn't expect to be in perfect health...

Demora smiled, seeing the tiredness in his eyes and the obvious discomfort at being fussed over. "This way then!" she said, and gently tugged on his shirt, liking the way he smelled of spring rain. She was so thankful for this distraction!

She led him up to a flight of stairs and paused, wondering if he was in any physical shape to climb them and would have asked (tactfully, of course), but she didn't get the chance as suddenly a brunette appeared at the top of them.

Harry paled starkly and his jaw dropped at the sight of his friend.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed in shock, and made his way down the stairs quickly towards his friend. "Are you okay? What are you doing out of bed?! You should be sleeping! Who let him out?! Demora! Are you crazy?!" he asked, looking quite panicked, having lost every semblance of colour, his mind vivid with images of Ron's torture and the confused state he'd been in upon first waking. It didn't help that he'd already been paranoid about Ron's health previous to this! He felt like shrinking him and tucking him in his pocket to keep him safe.

Ron smiled wanly, lucid enough blue eyes a cross between amused and uncomfortable. "Hey, Harry..." he murmured, with a wave, as if his friend had not just gone off on an irrational tirade. "So I take it you've met Demora too?" he added, by way of small talk.

Harry smiled shakily. "Yes... we've met," he said softly and looked at Demora pleadingly since obviously Ron wasn't going to answer his questions.

"Sevvy has looked him over. He's, umm... still a bit shaky," she said tactfully. "He's asked me to take him to a private room so he can rest," Demora explained.

Harry nodded. "Oh... okay then..." he said softly and gently reached over to soothe some of Ron's hair back worriedly. "I'll come with you, alright? Do you need help up the stairs?"

Ron flinched and took a few steps back when Harry moved to brush his hair away... He felt a brief queasy feeling, like heartburn, that made his chest ache for the moment of stark terror he'd felt... but then for the realisation that that feeling had caused him to flinch from his best friend.

Harry's green eyes darkened sadly but he tried to smile as though to dismiss it, not taking it personally. How could he? This wasn't about him; this was about Ron and the hell he'd been through.

"Come on, mate. Let's get you upstairs, okay?" Harry said gently.

Ron hesitated, then nodded a little, brushing some hair behind an ear himself. "Right... yeah," he murmured, then frowned slightly. "Why would I need help?" he added, recalling the comment from before. "I'm fine... I'm not 'shaky'," he threw in Demora's direction. "But I might be 'cranky' if Malfoy gets too close to me again... You know he has a real attitude problem, right? I mean... a serious one?"

Demora and Harry both looked at each other... and shared a secret, fond smile.

"Yeah, I know," Demora said softly.

"Part of his charm," Harry said with a shrug.

"Charm?!" Ron echoed, starting up the stairs carefully, ashamed to admit he was finding it strangely difficult. "Oh, gee, I'm sorry... I thought those insults were designed to be scathing --- not charming."

Harry flushed slightly, unaware that Demora was watching him closely. "Well... I mean, he doesn't really mean them! Well... okay, yeah he does. But in a nice way!" he tried to defend, following his friend up the stairs, hovering carefully in case he needed help. "And you have to admit, they're quite clever!"

"Harry... please don't make me hit you with one of Fred and George's rubber chickens again... because you're really scaring me now."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's his defence mechanism, Ron! He doesn't know how to relate to people other than to insult them. He was never taught anything else! Sometimes I think it's just habit. And besides, it's easier to keep people at a distance that way! If he insults them, then he doesn't run the risk of them getting too close. I just laugh it off when he insults me, and it confuses the hell out of him! Eventually, he'll understand he doesn't have to do that," he explained.

Ron stopped and turned on the stairs, looking a lot paler. "Sorry? I think I've taken too many blows to the head... What exactly did you just say? Because what I thought you said made it sound just like you... but no... No, I'm hearing things."

Harry blinked. "Like I what?"

"Like you..." Ron had to swallow to form the word, "-like Malfoy."

Harry bit a lip. "Well... yeah... umm... actually, I do, Ron. He's my friend," he said softly.

Ron passed out.

"RON!" Harry exclaimed, reaching for his friend and catching him before his head could hit the stairs.

"Nice going!" Demora snapped. "Why don't you tell him you have a crush on him too?!"

Harry paled and almost dropped Ron. "I don't have a crush on Ron!"

"Not Ron! Draco!" Demora exclaimed, helping Harry keep Ron to his feet.

Harry's mouth dropped open. "I - I don't have a crush on Draco!" he exclaimed, feeling his cheeks go red as he and Demora guided Ron up the rest of the way.

"Oh please..." Demora said with a roll of her eyes. "Either way, I take it you being friends with my brother isn't exactly a good thing in Ron's eyes?"

"YOUR BROTHER?!"

Demora looked dry as she helped Ron into the room next to hers and helped Harry guide him to the bed. "You're obviously a bit behind, Harry. Draco is my twin. I just told him today."

Harry stared at her and shook his head incredulously. "Wow..." he said softly. "I mean, I - I suspected! I just... Draco must be so happy! And devastated! Oh my god... did he faint?!" he asked quickly. "Er -- I mean, lose concentration?"

Demora smiled slightly in amusement. "You really do know my brother, don't you?" she asked wryly and paused. "What do you mean, you suspected?" she asked, covering poor Ron up. "You mean... you knew about me?!"

Harry nodded. "Yeah... he told me about you. Showed me your picture too!"

Demora stared at Harry in shock. "He - he confided in you?!" she asked, the idea ludicrous. Draco didn't confide in anyone! Even when they were six, he'd had a repressive personality and she did most of the talking.

Harry nodded. "Of course!" he exclaimed, as if it were natural and frowned worriedly at Ron, reaching over to soothe his friend's hair. "Poor thing. I shouldn't have told him this now. He's had enough shocks already," he said sadly.

He silently cringed at the idea of telling Ron what they'd just found out this morning; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were missing.

"What did Snape say about him?" Harry asked softly.

Demora winced, still wrong-footed by the realization that Draco had confided anything so deeply personal to Harry, but deciding she'd look into that later. "His heart took quite a beating apparently and - well, he was acting kind of out of it earlier. But Draco..." she trailed and smiled slightly. "I think he was deliberately baiting him to draw him out of it. After they yelled at each other for about two or three minutes, Ron seemed better."

Harry smiled slightly, an almost tender look coming across his features and he laughed shakily. "Yeah... I can see Draco doing something like that..." he said softly.

Demora blinked in surprise. "My god... you really do like him, don't you?" she asked.

Harry frowned. "He's a very good and decent person!" he said almost defensively. "He's brave and honest and frankly one of the strongest and most admirable people I've ever met! Of course I like him!"

Demora smiled slightly. "Right. Well, if my brother ever needs a fan club, I'll be sure to name you President."

Harry flushed weakly and cleared his throat, deciding to focus on Ron for now. He'd go over what Demora... ridiculously... suggested later.

"Ron?" Harry called guiltily, gently soothing his hair and oddly reminded of when he'd found his friend originally and had anxiously called to him to wake up. "Ron... can you hear me? Wake up, Ron!"

Ron twitched a little, murmuring a startled, barely coherent whisper, containing the distinguishable word of 'Master'...

Harry winced softly, remembering being called that earlier and gently cupped his friend's face. "Ron?" he called a bit more softly. "Come on, Ron... wake up. There's no master here, okay? Just Harry and Demora."

Ron's blue eyes opened an inch, then he shuddered all over and curled up on his side, rubbing his arms as if they were cold.

Harry looked worried and covered him up more warmly. "Ron?" he called gently. "Ron, are you okay? Are you cold? I can get you a hot water bottle if you want it."

"Stop it!" Ron shouted, flinching a bit and managing to stagger off the bed, looking very pale and shaky. He looked around, in distraction, then hunched his shoulders with folded arms, and walked over to the window to stare out across the grounds, without really acknowledging them.

Harry paled slightly, looking at Demora in confusion. "Ron? Stop what?" Harry asked, coming over to stand not far away from his friend. "What's the matter? Talk to me!"

Ron slowly raised a hand and held it out against the glass of the window... He stared at the condensation print that formed around it... "When will the sun set?" he murmured, in a vague tone more like Luna than himself.

Harry bit a lip. "In a few hours," he said softly, looking worried. "We'll make sure you have light in the room though." he assured, thinking perhaps Ron was afraid of the dark.

Ron could see red... It drizzled from the sky like acid rain...

"Are my... parents alive?" he whispered, asking again, brows drawn together so he looked almost lost.

Harry paled slightly at the question and swallowed thickly. He couldn't lie. "I don't know," he said softly.

Ron's fingers curled against the glass until it was more like a fist pressed to it... "Don't - know?" he asked, more haltingly.

Harry winced softly. "No... I don't know," he said softly. "But I'll find out, okay?" he tried to assure quickly. "I'll find out where they are, I promise." he said softly.

Ron could hear screaming... covered an ear with his free hand to try and block it out... But it was his own screams, and they came from nowhere outside his own mind... His breathing started to get harsh and quick, and his bony frame shook badly...

He abruptly staggered to the bathroom and turned the shower on, the loud splatters of water hitting the ceramic helping to blot out the noise for now. He sank to the floor in the corner of the bathroom and rocked himself, eyes tightly closed.

"RON!" Harry shouted, running after him, horrified at his panic and guilty. He should have lied! He should have just LIED and told Ron they were safe! He ran after him, into the bathroom and knelt on the floor next to him, dragging the redhead to him and crying as he clung.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Shhhh! It's okay, Ron! It's going to be alright! Just calm down. I'm sorry! Shh... it's okay..." he comforted brokenly, frankly not quite sure what to do. Ron was back, but his mind seemed to fade in and out, and Harry realized any kind of stress at all could send him back into that dark corner where Harry had found him.

It tore at his heart to see it, and he inwardly promised himself he would keep that from happening at all costs. He would see if he could find Ron's parents and he would do his best to keep him from stressing out! The idea of losing Ron mentally was just as terrifying as losing him physically...

Ron didn't cry... but he did scream... unable to even accept comfort in his state of trauma. He curled himself up as if in need of protection and shrieked his denial... He even begged, plead not to feel any more pain... The fast thundering of water on the bath was matched only by the rapid flutters of his erratic heart.

Harry pulled back, careful not to touch him, horrified by Ron's trauma.

"Shhh! I'm not going to hurt you! Damn it, Ron! It's me! It's Harry! You know I would never hurt you!" Harry called, and eventually, Ron stopped screaming and begging and just whimpered in his corner, curled into himself as though trying to protect himself from the world at large.

Harry's own heart screamed in pain at the sight of it.

He sat not too far away from Ron, refusing to leave him though he didn't touch him and mimicked his position with his legs curled up into himself and silently watched his friend with pain filled eyes.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered softly. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Ron. I - I should have," he said painfully, not even sure if Ron understood him and frankly at this point, it didn't matter. He spoke to Ron above the sounds of the shower, knowing his friend was lost in his own mind, but if that was the only way Harry could talk to him, then so be it.

He sighed heavily and bit a lip, looking pained. "I can still remember you begging me not to take you to that infirmary. I think that's going to be with me for a long time, Ron. Even though I say I'd never hurt you, I did... by not believing you. You were right; she was a Death Eater! And to think I believed her over my best friend. God, I was so stupid!" he berated himself. "And now this is the result and... and I hate it 'cause I know it's partly my fault. So... I'm very sorry," he said softly.

"I promise I'll always believe you from now on. If you say the sky is pink, then it's pink!" he exclaimed shakily and looked at his friend, pained for his whimpering. "Please, Ron... calm down, okay? No one is going to hurt you like that again. I won't let them," he said shakily. "I swear I'll do everything in my power not to let this happen again, okay?" he said softly, gently reaching over to try and take Ron's hand.

Ron lay on his side on the tiles, ashen pale and shaking tensely, curled up into himself, breathing far too quickly for it to be considered healthy... When the hand touched his, he winced his eyes shut, but didn't violently draw away, just braced himself.

Harry took the hand in his and held it for a time, before bringing it up to his lips and kissed it gently.

"I love you," he said softly and rolled his eyes. "Not like Hermione suggested! I'm not in love with you," he said with a shaky laugh. "But you're... the only family I've ever known, Ron. The only person who's ever really just... been there... no matter what. I--" he cut off, swallowing back more tears and soothed the hand tenderly. "I would have rather it been me. But since it's not... I'll just try and be here for you, okay? Even when you're terrified of me," he said softly.

Ron listened to the soothing tones for a few minutes, then slowly shifted and inched just a bit closer until he could rest his head on Harry's knee. He was obviously very skittish, tense and waiting for something to set him off again, but he was closer nevertheless...

Harry looked pained at the gesture and leaned forward to soothe his hair almost hesitantly and cried silent tears, wanting to just wrap his friend up in a warm cocoon of protection away from the world at large.

"You're going to be okay, Ron... alright?" Harry said softly. "You're not alone. I'm right here with you always, okay?" he soothed softly and kissed the top of his red head, sniffing softly and looked worried as he saw his friend was gripping his chest. He glanced up, seeing Demora through the crack in the doorway, obviously having been hovering nearby. "His chest is hurting," he informed her.

Demora startled, not having realized she'd been spotted and fighting back her own tears for the moving situation. She nodded at his statement and came in carefully, holding out the potion Severus had given to her and knelt on the floor not far from Ron.

"Ron?" she called softly. "Do you want some of this? It will stop the pain..."

Ron nodded with a strained, paler expression.

Harry took the potion from her and uncorked it, holding it to his friend's lips. "Here... sip carefully..." he instructed gently.

Ron sipped as suggested for a couple of seconds, drinking more than was probably wise... He pulled away at length, still breathing shallowly and rubbing at his chest fitfully...

Harry looked worried and continued to hold his hand and soothe his hair as was barely allowed. "Why don't I help you back to bed, okay? You can lay down and rest until the pain passes," he suggested softly.

Ron slowly nodded, standing with obvious trouble and turning off the shower (oddly calmly), before he started to walk to his bed with a little much-needed support. He got into bed without fuss and lay back, able to feel the vibration of his heart pounding.

Harry and Demora hovered, both of them covering him up warmly. Demora lit the fire while Harry conjured some water and put it beside Ron's bed.

"Do you need anything?" Harry asked, not sure if Ron was completely lucid again yet... or somewhere in between. "Do you want me to keep a window open? Or the door?" he asked.

Ron shrugged a shoulder, not looking bothered either way.

Harry nodded and smiled slightly. "Okay. I'll keep them closed. We don't want you getting sick," he said softly and kissed his friend's hand again gently. "If you need anything, just call one of the house elves and tell them to get me or Snape, okay?" he said softly, looking worried. "I'll come back and check on you in a bit."

Ron slowly nodded, eyelids heavy with weakness.

Harry bit a lip, watching Ron fall asleep and gestured to Demora, turning to leave.

Demora closed the door behind them and winced, looking at Harry sympathetically. "He's in pretty bad shape, isn't he?" she asked and casually looped an arm through his as though they were old friends, walking together.

Harry smiled slightly at the gesture and didn't object, his eyes going dark as he nodded. "Yeah... pretty bad," he said softly and winced. "I didn't help the situation."

"You can't blame yourself," Demora said firmly. "He would have found out his parents were missing from someone else if not you. The moment he steps out of his room, people will talk," she said softly and sighed. "But it's sad. He's so very sweet! I hate to see bad things happen to good people," she said with a wince.

Harry nodded darkly. "Unfortunately, I've learned that's a simple fact of life."

Demora frowned slightly. "You're hanging around my brother too much! Don't get cynical, Harry."

Harry blinked in surprise. "I'm not cynical!" he exclaimed. "But it's the truth. Bad things happen to good people! Just look at Draco!"

Demora paused and looked at him with a frown. "What do you mean?" she asked tensely and narrowed her eyes. "What do you know of what he's been through?"

Harry hesitated, biting a lip and shifting awkwardly. "Well... nothing conclusive," he said softly. "Just... I know his father hurt him," he said softly.

Demora's eyes widened and she grabbed Harry by the sleeve, yanking him into an empty classroom and closed the door, whirling on him. "How do you know that?!" she demanded.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "He told me!" he exclaimed and hesitated. "Well, I mean he didn't exactly volunteer the information! It was liking pulling teeth. But it was kind of hard to deny it when I told him I'd seen his scars and - well, he admitted to me that his father basically controlled everything, from what he wore to who he saw! I admit I don't know exact details, but after seeing what happened to Ron, I could imagine," he said softly.

Demora stared at Harry in silent shock. First Draco tells him about his twin sister, and then he tells him about his past?! It was... unthinkable! It just didn't mesh with anything she'd learned about her brother's personality, or anything she remembered about him!

She frowned and leaned up against a desk. "So... you're saying he admitted this?" she asked and shook her head. "I can't believe that. It was engrained into both of us that you just don't talk about the family! And believe me, Harry...no, you can't imagine what he's been through. Ron's condition was something Draco would have suffered at five... on a good day," she said wincingly.

Harry winced as well, swallowing thickly and nodded. "I know," he said softly. "I mean, I gathered it was pretty bad," he said softly and sighed heavily. "It's amazing he's sane."

Demora hummed. "What else has he told you?"

Harry shrugged. "Just... stuff. Like... well, he's bi."

"WHAT?!" Demora's demanded.

Harry blinked. "Bi. You know? As in he likes both girls and guys?" he asked and wondered at a peculiar sensation in his stomach. He refused to acknowledge it as jealousy. He had nothing to be jealous of! Just because Draco could be attracted to either side, which meant he was twice as likely to get pulled into a relationship with some slut... and likely not a monogamous one either!

Harry found himself trying not to frown.

Demora shook her head incredulously. "I had no idea!" she exclaimed. "Well, I mean, of course I didn't! I haven't been around. So... do you know if he's had a relationship with a guy before? Or a girl?"

Harry sighed heavily. "I know he was with Pansy, but that was more forced than anything. Draco does have taste, I assume! So he wouldn't have gone with her otherwise. And understand, I'm just gathering this from what I heard! When I asked, there was some ambiguity involved which suggested he might be attracted to both genders," he informed.

Demora looked wry. "I see. Well, well, well... isn't that interesting..." she mused.

Harry hummed and shifted. "Not really."

Demora smirked and looked sly. "Aww... but Harry, it's so obvious that you are no bi. You're one hundred percent gay as they come, aren't you?"

Harry flushed red and frowned. "So I've been told. I haven't decided."

"Who said it was a decision? Recent developments suggest it is genetic," she replied and frowned. "Though I'm not sure how that would relate to Draco. Perhaps he's one or the other and is just confused... or even in denial! Some people who are gay want to say they're bi to avoid personal conflict or other issues," she exclaimed and looked wicked. "I'll have to help him sort through his confusion, I suppose," she said with a smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I pity him."

Demora laughed and shrugged, hopping off the edge of the desk. "Well, Harry... I know for sure and certain he likes you. Whether it's more than like at this point is anyone's guess. But I do know that he would never have confided half of what he has, then alone risked his life for you, if he didn't care for you in some fashion."

Harry felt warmed and smiled shakily. "He'd give himself a paper cut in the eye before admitting it though."

Demora smiled slightly and nodded. "True. If there is one thing I do know about my brother, it's that he's slow to catch up with himself. He might feel something, but he won't acknowledge it until he's ready. You can't push that."

Harry nodded. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind. Speaking of which, I should probably check on him and thank him for helping Ron."

Demora nodded and her eyes went dark. "I should get back to the infirmary," she decided. "Tell Draco I'll talk to him later."

Harry nodded. "I will," he assured and turned to leave to go and find his friend.

* * *

Harry had knocked lightly but there was no answer, so with a frown of concern, he slowly opened the door to Draco's private room and hesitated as he took in the stillness and the sound of soft breathing, indicating that the occupant of the room was sleeping. The wise part of him told him to return later, but Harry found himself instead closing the door behind him silently and approaching the four poster bed where the blond slept.

His long, lean frame was stretched out over the bed, his head resting on a soft, plump pillow, his hand extended above his head innocently, leaving himself remarkably vulnerable and open. Harry found himself smiling slightly, taking in every detail, watching the way his flat, impossibly-bony chest rose and fell delicately under the grey t-shirt, temping Harry to reach out and place his hand over the blond's chest to feel the movement and hardness of it.

The shirt had pulled up with the movement of his arm over his head, revealing soft, smooth skin at his side just above his hips, and Harry remembered (vividly) what Draco looked like with just a towel on. He drew his eyes away from the exposed skin at his waist and more towards the collarbone of his neck where the shirt had come off a shoulder. Draco's thinness was further emphasized by the bony protrusion of his clavicle and the dips of soft skin between, extending into a long, pale neck which supported a face so handsome it could make angels weep.

His lips were thin and parted, yet his lower lip was oddly full and sensual. His chin and jaw line were sharp and defined, his high cheek-bones made him look elegant, especially when coupled with a straight nose, gorgeous eyes covered by heavy grey lids, long lashes and perfectly arched eyebrows. His pale features were brought out by the colour of the dark green blanket he slept under, and his platinum blond hair just made him look all the more angelic and beautiful.

Harry found himself entranced, watching Draco sleep silently for several long moments, before he shifted and stretched out on the bed a little bit away from him, resting on his side and watching his chest rise and fall. Harry frowned to see that Draco stopped breathing every few minutes, before murmuring something in annoyance and then shifting slightly until his breathing became normal again. Harry looked pained to think that Draco had trouble breathing even in sleep!

He didn't disturb him though, knowing how very little Draco slept anyway, and just lay there, watching his every movement, finding himself memorizing Draco's features by heart, so he could close his eyes and still see them clear as day.

He was in trouble, he realized. Serious trouble...

At least fifteen minutes dragged slowly by... and save for the very quiet hisses of shallow breath, all was still and silent...

Then, just after another brief stint of no breathing, Draco clearly murmured, "Stop staring at me, Potter," under his breath.

Harry startled in shock and sat up, blinking. "How - how did you know I was here?" he asked incredulously.

Draco kept his eyes closed. "Irrelevant. You are and you are staring... Stop it," he mumbled softly, exhaling a soft sigh of sleepy irritation.

Harry smiled slightly. "I should think you'd be flattered," he replied dryly and winced. "But you're right, I'm sorry. I just came to see how you were and talk to you. But... I'll come back later when you're done sleeping," he said softly and shifted to get off the bed.

Draco warred with himself for a split-second... a part of him actually wanting to allow himself sleep while he was susceptible to it for once... but...

With a dramatic little groan, Draco turned over under the blankets onto his side, sighing, "No rest for the wicked... Go on then, Potter; what did you want to talk to me about?"

Harry paused and smiled slightly, before laughing in amusement. "You're funny," he said softly, avoiding the word 'cute' which he was certain would not earn him brownie points with Draco. He reached over to gently soothe some of Draco's hair back from his face gently. "I just wanted to tell you I was happy for you. I had suspected she was Demora, but I didn't know for sure," he said softly and smiled shakily. "I'm sure you were floored. Literally," he teased.

Draco opened his eyes a squint, pulling a sarcastic smile. "Oh... very witty. Joke's on you, Potter... I wasn't floored - I was, if anything, staired."

Harry blinked. "You fainted down the stairs?!"

"I just lost my concentration for a moment..."

Harry rolled his eyes, looking both amused and worried. "Are you alright now?" he asked worriedly. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

"Just a broken wrist... and a cut on the head," Draco replied, pulling his bandaged wrist out from under his blanket and turning it experimentally.

"Awwww!" Harry exclaimed, reaching for his arm and wincing as he held it. "I'm sorry, Draco," he said sadly and shook his head wryly. "You just can't make anything simple, can you? Even a reunion!"

"You make that sound like it's a bad thing," Draco pouted pridefully.

Harry smiled slightly. "I didn't say it was bad. It's certainly... interesting," he said softly, putting the wrist down gently on the bed and sighed. "But I really am happy for you, Draco," he said softly. "I'm sure it's... upsetting... in some ways, to realize you've missed a lot of time together. But at least you have your family back."

"It's a positive development," Draco affirmed softly, and shuffled a little to make more room, in silent invitation for the brunette to sit (or lie down, as he apparently had no qualms doing).

Harry smiled slightly and gladly accepted the invitation, stretching his long frame down on the bed not far from Draco, propping his head up on an elbow, facing his friend.

"You have a gift for the understatement," Harry said with a small smirk of amusement. "I think it's fabulous!" he exclaimed and sighed heavily. "And at this point, I think we could use some good news," he said wryly and bit a lip thoughtfully. "I wanted to thank you for what you did for Ron."

"Oh god... do you never stop? You gave me my trunks back and got me Saturdays out of curfew - that's more than thankful enough, Potter... Don't keep on about it as well..." Draco drawled wearily. "If that's all you have to say, I'll go back to sleep," he added indignantly, closing his eyes again.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not for saving him, stupid! For baiting him!" he exclaimed. "For what you did downstairs earlier. Demora told me how you sort of snapped him out of it."

"Oh, that..." Draco drawled quietly, opening his eyes again, looking completely composed and stoic. "Nothing intentional. It's in my make-up to insult him... I can't help it, alas."

Harry looked dry. "I don't buy it," he said softly and smiled slightly, reaching over to adjust the covers over him. "Nope, you can try to pass it off as just your charming personality, but I think we both know the truth! You did it deliberately, with the intention of helping him! You're far more kind than you want people to believe."

Draco rolled his grey eyes wearily. "If I say it was on purpose, will you stop badgering?" he asked exasperatedly. "Yes, alright? It was intentional... He's at a very delicate stage; that much was blatantly obvious, and frankly, the nicer and more worried you act around him, the more his nerves will increase with your tension - and the further behind he'll be. By injecting something that used to be a normal slice of reality into his hazy situation, he gained a little clarity, as I had every suspicion he would... And personally, I'm not one to step on eggshells," he summarised bluntly.

Harry smiled and abruptly reached over to hug his friend tightly.

"Thank you, Draco! Honestly, I can't thank you enough!" he exclaimed and pulled back, looking anxious and tense. "And you're right! He's so very delicate and I'm afraid I might have made things worse! I sort of told him you and I were friends and then he fainted, and when he woke up he was all vague and he asked me if his parents were dead and... well, the truth is I don't know and I told him the truth!" he exclaimed and winced.

"I know, I know! It was stupid! But I didn't know what else to say! And so he freaked out and retreated into the bathroom and eventually I got him to calm down and he took some medicine and we put him to bed but... god, it's just so terrifying! I'm worried he's going to completely lose it. And what happens if his parents really are dead?! He couldn't handle that now! He just couldn't!" he rambled.

Draco sat up a little once he was released from the discomforting hug, and frowned slightly as he absorbed all of Harry's rambling assertions. He pursed his lips slightly, and reached over to cover Harry's mouth with his hand eventually, just to get him to shut up...

"Shush," he said, simply. "If the Weasleys are missing, it was better not to lie. Yes, his behaviour will alter drastically from one moment to the next. No, he couldn't handle it if his parents died right now. Best suggestion available, get someone to lie and tell him they are fine, should that become an issue... And finally, do not ramble like that as I am too tired to separate your incoherencies for any length of time," he drawled, sounding wry, though his expression was placid.

Harry stilled at the feel of Draco's hand over his mouth, the mere contact sending an odd sensation down his spine, but he ignored it forcefully in order to concentrate on Draco's words. He finally nodded and felt himself smiling against Draco's hand at his last statement.

"Ohmmhmm.." he murmured against Draco's hand.

Draco drew his hand away. "Pardon?"

Harry smiled slightly. "I said, 'okay, sorry'," he informed and sighed heavily, running a hand back through his dark hair, mussing it further. "I'm just worried about him," he said softly and nodded vaguely. "But what you said makes sense."

Draco nodded seriously. "Yes... it does," he murmured, and sighed a little, propping his elbow on a pillow as he lay sideways, the blankets slipped down to his waist now. "And if he's aided properly now, I daresay he will recover. His situation is hardly hopeless..."

Harry deliberately kept his eyes to Draco's face, refusing to allow himself the indulgence of looking at his exposed body, knowing Draco was sharper than a tack.

"Yeah... well..." he trailed and sighed heavily. "I hope so. It's just... Ron's never been through anything like this," he said wincingly. "It's a shock to his system... to his mind. And even if he does recover, he'll never be the same..." he said darkly, green eyes going sad.

"No," Draco drawled, quirking an eyebrow. "What did you expect, Potter? That we'd get him back and it would be all sunshine and daisies again? He was tortured... Nothing can take that back, I'm afraid, short of a Memory Charm."

Harry sighed heavily. "And that's not something I want to resort to unless absolutely necessary," he said darkly and looked wry. "And you're right; I suppose I was a bit naive to think he'd be the same," he said softly and winced. "I just...hope he hasn't changed too much."

Draco shrugged a bony shoulder. "Mmm... I think that hinges a lot on you," he drawled.

Harry blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean... the less you change towards him, perhaps the less he will change."

Harry seemed to pause, taking that in, and then smiled brilliantly. "You know... that might just work!" he exclaimed.

Draco quirked an eyebrow slightly, smirking a small, amused expression. "So glad you thought of it," he said with mock-enlightenment.

Harry laughed in amusement. "No... glad you thought of it!" he acknowledged and nodded seriously. "I'll try not to change towards him either. It's just... hard..." he said softly with a wince. "I probably won't be able to stop being over-protective. It was bad enough when he was--" he cut off, deciding that probably wasn't a good topic.

"When he was... poisoned?" Draco completed.

Harry nodded sombrely. "Yeah..." he said softly and sighed. "Up until that point, he'd been injured but...it was never that close," he said darkly and shook his head. "But I know you didn't intend for him to get a hold of that poison," he said softly.

"No... I didn't," Draco admitted quietly, looking distant for a moment, before he blinked, refocused, and smiled thinly. "So... what do you make of my sister then, Potter?"

Harry laughed in amusement. "She's nice. Very pretty! And she reminds me of you in some ways. But I think she's more in touch with her feelings," he said bluntly.

Draco quirked an eyebrow slightly. "Oh, yes?" he drawled.

Harry nodded. "Oh yes... quite. And she's a bit more dramatic than you too I think," he said wryly. "Not to say you aren't dramatic! Just in a different way."

"Ah..."

Harry laughed. "And she definitely talks more," he decided and shrugged slightly. "But she cares about you a great deal. She's quite protective of you. I think that's a good thing."

"It might get a little annoying," Draco admitted. "I've long since got used to life without her..."

Harry's eyes darkened slightly and he smiled sadly. "I know," he said softly and sighed heavily. "I suppose it's like... loosing your hearing... or your eyesight! You learn to get by without it... to become independent. Then suddenly you have it back and it's odd. You almost don't want to depend on it again."

Draco considered for a moment, slowly sitting up again and letting the blanket pool around his bony waist. He brushed a strand of slightly-mussed blond hair behind an ear. "A workable analogy," he admitted softly.

Harry bit a lip thoughtfully, looking oddly distant for a moment. "I felt that way with Sirius," he said softly. "I mean... I grew up not having any parents! And suddenly I did," he said softly and looked briefly strained for a moment before sighing heavily. "I wish I could say it was a mistake. Sometimes I wish Sirius had never shown up," he said darkly and shook his head.

"But to be honest, I wouldn't have traded it for the world. So... don't distance yourself from her, Draco... no matter how tempted you are. You'll regret it," he said softly.

Draco was quiet for a moment, before suddenly sliding out of bed and walking across the cold floor towards the trunks at the base of his bed, wearing only black boxers with the grey t-shirt he had on..

Harry was briefly shocked, and couldn't help getting a nice long look at Draco's very gorgeous legs and his bum in those boxers! But he quickly pulled himself back to reality.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

Draco had opened the more personal of his two trunks and after some intense searching, he came to a box that was not very deep but a wide rectangular shape, lacquered and polished to a shine. He placed it on the bed and unlocked it with about eight charms before opening the lid and sifting through what mainly appeared to be parchments and papers.

Harry looked curious. "Wow..." he said softly, coming closer to see the box. "You've got a lot of stuff in there! What is it?"

Draco tilted the box away from Harry privately, then finally pulled out two items from the bottom of the pile inside the box. He closed the box, letting it charm itself secure again automatically, then held out what was revealed to be two photographs. "Perhaps you'd like photographs of him..." he drawled quietly.

And sure enough, the two pictures were of Sirius; one of him skulking along a corridor, and another of him standing, leaning against the gargoyle to Dumbledore's office would-be casually.

Harry took the photographs and held them as if they were precious jewels, seeing Sirius' familiar face and smiling shakily at it. He reached out with a finger and traced his features lovingly, his eyes filling uncontrollably as grief was still a fresh piercing in his heart. He nodded shakily, unable to look up at the moment.

"Thank you..." he whispered softly with obvious difficulty, but was truly grateful. He would have hugged Draco again if he were capable of it...

Draco turned away with the excuse of placing his box back in his trunk for a lingering moment. "I had another of the two of you together... but, as my father often checks my belongings, I was obliged to destroy it," he drawled quietly. "Those were taken after the third of the Tri-Wizard tasks... He was heading to Dumbledore's office on your behalf, I believe."

Harry paused, glancing up and wiping at an eye. "You took these?" he asked softly. "Why? I mean... you took photographs of me and him together too?" he asked, confused.

"Mmm..." Draco said quietly, looking a little tense. "I took Colin Creevy's camera off him to take them... as you can see they are of poor still muggle quality..."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That...doesn't answer my question, Draco," he said softly. "Why would you take pictures of Sirius? Or me for that matter?" he asked softly.

"Ideally... to provide evidence of where he was and of your affiliation with him."

"Ah..." Harry said softly and bit a lip. "But you didn't," he said softly. "You kept them hidden! Why didn't you use them?"

Draco looked up, and smirked thinly. "Well... no fun to be had tormenting you if you're in Azkaban is there?"

Harry smiled shakily, knowing there was probably more to it, but not entirely sure he should press the issue.

"Well... nevertheless... thank you," he said softly, pocketing the photographs carefully. "All I have left of him is this two-way mirror he gave me," he said softly and shook his head. "Apparently, it doesn't work beyond the Veil," he said with a shaky scoff.

Draco froze for a split-second, then covered it by casting a last charm on his lock in a paranoid manner. "I see..."

Harry shrugged and then sighed heavily, running a hand back over his face, inwardly pulling himself back together. It was a wound he had learned to live with, like so many others, but one that still bled from time to time.

"So what were all those other parchments and things? Notes? Diary?" he asked curiously.

"Something like that..." Draco drawled quietly.

Harry smiled slightly. "Oh come on, Draco! You've told me practically everything else."

"I most certainly have not," Draco muttered, going to some drawers to pick out his jeans, since he was obviously going to have to forgo sleep - again... He pulled the black jeans smoothly up his long legs, and fastened them with a belt. "And it's absolutely of no interest of yours..."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Actually, it is! I'm quite interested. Come on, Draco! What is it? Poetry?"

Draco scoffed quietly. "That's so insulting it's not even funny."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not insulting! Fine then. If not poetry, then what?"

"Just notes!"

"About?"

"About... my life," Draco said tightly. "Alright? They're just notes."

Harry looked curious. "So... it's a diary of some kind!"

"No... it isn't dated."

"So... just thoughts then?" Harry asked softly.

"Basically," Draco said shortly.

Harry looked hesitant. "Can I read some of it?"

"NO!"

"Awww... why not?" Harry asked and sat up, looking pleading. "Come on, Draco! Just a little bit! Don't be embarrassed!"

Draco shook his head. "I am not embarrassed - but I don't want anyone reading it, thank you."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Because! Ugh... shut up, Potter. Just shut up."

Harry smiled slightly. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

Harry bit a lip. "That you're afraid if anyone reads it, they won't like you anymore."

"Your psychological insight astonishes me," Draco said with ample sarcasm, walking over to the side of the bed to take a seat. "...Not."

"I notice you didn't deny it," Harry pointed out and gently reached over to put a hand on his arm. "Come on, Draco. Just one little note and I promise I'll still like you when it's done with!"

"Would you rather burn to death or drown?"

"Neither," Harry replied and shrugged, examining a nail casually. "But fine. If you're afraid, I can understand."

"I am not afraid!"

Harry shook his head. "It's okay, Draco. I understand you're very sensitive right now!" he said in an almost piteous tone, gently reaching over to pat his hand. "You've been through a lot. You're in a delicate position! It's natural not to want the emotional upset. So if you're afraid to let me read it, that's more than fine! I'm not one to pry into anyone else's business."

Draco glared and went to his trunk and pulled out the box again, grasping some parchments from the clump within it and tossed them in Harry's direction. "Fine! Read some... Do what the fuck you want, Potter - it appears privacy is a thing of the past!" he exclaimed, and left the room completely.

Harry smiled slightly in triumph.

That had been too easy!

A part of him felt guilty though, and he realized he'd have to smooth over ruffled feathers. But he had what he wanted, which was more knowledge about Draco's past, and in his own words no less!

Harry gathered up the parchments carefully, organizing them into neat piles, realizing they would be out of order, and deciding he'd have to just try and piece them together as best he could.

He pulled out the first note and looked at it carefully, thankful Draco's writing was so neat.

_'…The moon looks orange tonight. Isn't it strange the way that sometimes happens? My father used to call it 'blood on the moon', and he'd be in a good mood for a good day or two afterwards. Generally a bad sign..._

_It isn't as though I'm superstitious; I'm truly not. I don't believe in fate, I don't believe in faith, or that by knocking on a piece of wood after you say something ominous stops it from being jinxed._

_I believe in fact, I believe in cause and effect, I believe in magic... And I believe in pain. I believe in power and I believe in hate. And, I suppose, if I believe in hate, I believe in love... But is feeling something enough...? Scratch that bit out, Quill. I said 'scratch it out'! Ugh... bloody thing. Fine... forget this page.'_

Harry smiled shakily at the words, saddened by the tone of it which seemed almost dark and hopeless, and yet Draco had mentioned love. What did he mean by 'is feeling something enough'? Had Draco felt love for someone other than his sister?!

The idea had Harry both intrigued...and yet his stomach writhed at the thought that it could have been a romantic attachment. He had no idea, so he eagerly went to the next note in hopes of finding out more.

_'I do not want to be my father._

_I do not want to be my father._

_I do not want to be my f-father._

_I do not want to be my father…_

_I do not want to be my father!'_

Harry's eyes widened at the note and he swallowed thickly, almost hearing the conviction, and yet the painful conflicting emotions he obviously felt when he wrote that was nearly overwhelming. What had spurned on such a tirade? Perhaps he'd seen Lucius do something horrible and vowed never to be like that?

Either way, it only confirmed what Harry had already suspected; Draco was twice the person Lucius could ever be!

He went on to the next note carefully, wondering what other secrets he'd find.

_'Today I am a murderer for the fourteenth time. Would that these pages could contort into shock, or distaste, or regret, or hate... anything but the blankness that reminds me of my own... The featureless posing... the stoic posturing... Emotionless death._

_They are innocents. I don't know where he gets them all... One almost wonders if there's a market in trade for hopeless souls... And there I thought the slave trade ended 200 years ago... It isn't so. I'm a slave myself - only my every day shackles would be made of gold if it suited the public world... Instead, they are invisible; and invisible they must stay. At least I can end it quickly... I've fooled him into believing I have a thirst for it now, and I don't tarry with the torture; I have even halted his tortures by killing the victims..._

_Anything to stop the screams..._

_They will never cease in my mind.'_

Harry had to read the note over again... and again... and still he couldn't fathom it.

Fourteen times... Draco had apparently killed fourteen times! At least...

Harry absorbed every word carefully, surmising through Draco's eloquent speech the reasons behind such actions, which to Harry's mind were a complete contradiction to Draco's nature. He was horrified to realize the truth; that Draco had killed to end the tortures. He had seen the victims and had killed to stop the screams. And apparently his father had gotten the wrong idea! Believing him to have a blood thirst.

Nothing was further from the truth.

Harry put a hand to his mouth, his silent tears falling into his hand and thankfully not falling onto the parchments. He separated that one from the rest, deciding that one was important he would want to re-read it later.

After several minutes of just sitting there, trying to imagine what Draco must have gone through, how far close to the edge he must have been driven to even consider euthanasia, he turned to the next note, almost afraid to read it now.

_'How much of who we are is laid down by our parents and our environment? If I look out of the window and I see a sunset silhouetting the trees and think it beautiful, how much of that is genetically engineered? Are genes passed down with the predisposition to like that particular sort of sight? And to what extent is it my own environment that makes me think so? Does seeing a dungeon every day make me simply more able to establish beauty elsewhere? And how much of what I think is unconsciously grown of what I've heard from my parents... Did my father look at such a sight and comment on it being beautiful within my earshot, therefore cultivating my own mindscape into becoming of the same mind as he? Somehow, this seems unlikely... but it's a worthy thought..'_

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking vaguely amused at the random philosophical question in regards to perception. He smiled slightly in amusement, though he doubted Lucius had any kind of influence over Draco's perception except that, of course, being in a dungeon meant he appreciated the beauty of the out doors more. Harry winced at the casual reference to the dungeon and had to wonder just how often he spent time down there.

He imagined it was a lot.

Impressed despite himself and doing his best not to feel intimidated by Draco's intelligence, he went on to the next note, finding himself eager to hear Draco's random thoughts.

_'Her blood's on my hands... her blood – on my hands._

_I tried to scrub it off... really, I tried. And every time I wash my hands, even now, I get stains of red flash across my vision. Hallucinations. And before I know it, I have rubbed my skin raw – yet again. Just like Demora, she was - just like Demora... So young._

_Oh - the ink from my quill warps into red paint even as I scrawl now... I know it's just an effect of having not slept for... I don't remember when I last went to sleep._

_But it's everywhere - the blood is everywhere! She wouldn't stop screaming... oh, Merlin, god. Shit. FUCK. UGH... Okay... okay, he's calling; must go.'_

Harry looked pained at the note and could tell Draco had lost it. The handwriting was erratic and tense, a stark contrast to Draco's usually neat scrawl. So... Draco had had to do it again, only this time, it was a little girl! Harry's heart twisted in pain at the thought of Draco doing that. He knew why, of course; to save her the agony of a slow death.

But Draco would still see it as murder. His conscience would still torment him, and he could understand why he would hallucinate the blood being on his hands. The guilt alone would be enough to drive most sane people crazy!

He was beyond crying at that point. Rather, he was stoic and tense, his eyes glistening but his pain for Draco was just too deep to allow for tears. He knew he couldn't read many more, and thankfully there weren't many left.

_'Foreword: I want to have it down in writing that my intention is to one day let these pieces of confessional script fall into the hands of someone who may publish them in some form... even if it is only in a newspaper. I hope I am dead when this happens, naturally. Or at the very least, living in a heavily-warded home in the middle of a thick forest._

_I think that was always my plan. The first note I can find dates back to when I was six... I have sporadically tried to update my life on paper since then... and I hope that by allowing this to be made public some day, I might... Well, I don't really know what I wish to come of it; if I am dead, little difference will be made to me. But perhaps people will be brought to justice who ought to be... Vain hope; it's a wonderful thing._

_--Today is a Thursday, for the record. And I have pneumonia at the moment, yet again... but this hasn't kept me out of the dungeons. I've had to filter the recess pipe again. I've thrown up so hard... it is impossible to describe the smell on parchment. Basic run of the mill workshop... I think my father is losing his touch..._

_I can't really feel a thing any more. Well, nowhere he was slashing today in any case... The numbness has hovered for years, but I think it has finally taken a permanent hold. Oh, I'm getting blood on this page... oh well, authenticity? In any case, I have conducted a number of tests. As I have recorded previously when reporting the extent of injuries' aftermath, I tend to set most of my own bones and joints now; it saves time and the pain of an infection; but since last month, I've noticed I don't feel a thing when I force something back into alignment..._

_I am poking at a cut on my arm right now and I don't feel so much as a twinge. It's oddly fascinating. And as I was saying... What was I saying? Oh yes - tests. I've put a fork in my thigh - don't feel that either. And I burnt one of my feet - don't feel that either... I still don't have my hearing back in my left ear; I think he might have seriously damaged it this time - I knew that spiked bat would give me one hell of a headache, and as I suspected at the time, I fear a spike may have unfortunately punctured my eardrum..._

_It may heal up over time, but for the moment, I am hearing all conversations one-sidedly... hah! See there, that's comedy... When are these potions going to kick in?'_

Harry was at first intrigued and even proud of Draco for wanting his memoirs published, but quickly grew horrified beyond belief, not just for the vivid description of Draco's numbness in his limbs and sickening descriptions of his own tests, but also for the mention of his left ear.

Draco was deaf in his left ear?! Had it been healed?! He didn't know, but it was a shocking revelation, and if Draco indeed had trouble hearing, Harry had never noticed it. He knew Draco would never give any hint of weakness to anyone!

No wonder he didn't want Harry reading this.

Harry was glad to see there was only two more, and went for the next note eagerly, wondering what other horrors he would find there.

_'I've been... how many days? No... three weeks. I have lost practically the entire summer; how I'll finish all my homework is beyond me. Snape says I need to rest... but honestly, how likely is that? My father is frustrated enough for the disruption this has caused. Hushing up nurses always vexes him... unless the hushing up means killing, which in this case it didn't._

_My head aches... It is actually throbbing... And my heart is still not right; it is actually hard to climb up a gentle slope. The strain is too great at the moment... It wasn't this bad before, so it's mainly the trauma that's caused this complication of an already-complicated matter..._

_It makes me wonder if I'll see 3rd year... It hurts so damn much... For future reference; comas are bad for your health!'_

Harry frowned in confusion.

Draco's heart wasn't right?!

He knew about Draco's breathing problem, but this was the first he'd heard of any kind of heart complication! And after second year no less. He'd fallen into a coma??! What kind of heart problem was it?! And why the hell hadn't it been mentioned before?!

Harry started to imagine all kinds of horrible things, from heart attacks to heart failure, and it was everything he could do to pick up the last note and read it without giving in to the urge to go and find Draco and demand to know the state of his health! And if that didn't work, he'd find Snape and find some way of getting the information out of him! He refused to acknowledge his tension as fear...

_'Before even turning seventeen and coming of age, I have to date killed twenty individuals... aided and abetted in the deaths of 59 individuals via numerous methods of depravation and torture and stood aside and borne witness to the murders of probably three times that amount..._

_...including my mother._

_My mother died today. My father did it, as I always knew he would._

_He tied a rope around her neck and shoved her off the second staircase landing; her neck didn't break, I heard no crack and she gurgled and struggled. My father went down to the lower landing, then cut across the base of her abdomen, and then in a straight line over that... Very medieval._

_All the guts and blood fell to the foyer floor. I cleaned it up later. Did nothing to stop it all happening... I think I'm beyond caring. It feels... like a relief._

_I was sure I wouldn't sleep after seeing that, but my exhaustion caught up with me and I suffered one of my collapses of concentration in my bedroom. I dreamt about her..._

_"Don't ever – ever – ever let me catch you eating another bite again! What did I teach you? Have all my lessons been in vain?" she hissed._

_She slapped me soundly, which felt so real... She took the apple away from me and threw it out of the window. Two dragons fought over the tiny thing in the garden, and there was a fly buzzing about the windowpane in the shape of a phoenix._

_"I need to eat on occasion, Mother. But fine... I am sorry," I said._

_"You will be, boy," she replied, her gaze narrowing, suddenly stoic as ever. "You were born for death... don't you ever forget it."_

_She raised my hands, and they were covered in blood. I thought it was victim-blood, but then I saw my wrists were cut..._

_"Is it mine?" I asked._

_"Yes," she said._

_"Oh..." was all I remember saying, because then I woke up. I'd fallen on my fencing sword stand - both of my wrists were bleeding all over the floor.'_

Harry looked strained and frowned angrily, everything inside him screaming that the woman's words weren't true. Draco wasn't born for death! And he could tell the dream had disturbed him. The entire situation would have disturbed anyone! But seeing your mother die, cleaning it up and then having the bitch come back to you in a dream and give you some vague, fucked up view point had to be disturbing!

And it was a lie. A cruel, horrible lie! And was that why Draco didn't seem to eat much? His mother's voice was still somewhere inside his head, telling him not to?

He wincingly put that last piece of parchment aside with the others, piling them neatly back into the box. A part of him still felt guilty for prying, for manipulating Draco into showing him, but he felt justified nevertheless. Draco had to open up to someone! And now he was convinced more than ever that he'd been right; Draco was afraid of people's reactions should they ever know that much about him. It was, objectively, a justified fear. Harry imagined there were a lot of people who would react badly to what was contained in those parchments.

He wasn't one of them.

He closed the box, carefully locking it and placing it back in Draco's trunk, before setting off to the find the blond, his mind whirling with questions, finding that the notes, rather than satisfy his curiosity, had only made him want to know even more! But one thing he did understand was that he would never fully be able to understand Draco. He was too complicated, his mind indescribably complex and full of twists and turns and thoughts that would no doubt keep scholars awake for years!

But it would be a hell of a lot of fun trying...

* * *

Authors Notes: R&R! Plz let me know what you think. 


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